The Golden Snitch
by Michael Serpent
Summary: HD slash. I'm warning you. Harry and Draco trying to get the upper hand of each other, mentally and physically. Some roughness and some tenderness. And some weirdness... And Voldemort drinking mint tea.
1. The Wings of the Snitch

_Disclaimer:This__ Harry Potter story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to __Bloomsbury__ Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. This site is for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. _

_Note [07.03.2003]: I heard that the first part of my story somewhat resembles a chapter from a story called Love Under Will. The author apologizes. I didn't mean to copy anybody's work._

_Note [03.06.2004]: I have been trying to correct some mistakes in this story, both grammatical and important to the plotline. The ones of you, who have been reading this in ff.net before, prepare yourselves for some changes. Nothing major, though._

_Thank you: My irresistible poison, Rotschopf the Drow. And my wonderful second beta Dystopic. (Their work will start to show in the later chapters)  
._

_ ._

**Chapter 1: Wings of the Snitch**

The Golden Snitch. There it was, lurking right below the ring of the left goalpost in the Gryffindor end of the Quidditch pitch, whizzing streamlined along the high, shining pillar. They both saw it at the same time and dove for it: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.

Natalie MacDonald, the new Gryffindor commentator, burst into a wild, girlish ballyhoo and the students all around the stands stood up in excitement. "Potter is diving like a lightning bolt for the Snitch, but Malfoy approaches from the other side, dangerously fast. The Snitch won't have a chance! It's inevitable that one of them will catch it now! I hope it's Potter! Go Potter! Ouch! _Ouch! _Damn, no need to poke... Oh, Professor McGonagall! Erm, okay, I will try to be more impartial in the futur... and here comes Malfoy! He's flying side by side with Harry! Both approach the Snitch with a horribly high speed... Look out, Harry, you'll collide with the goalpost unless you... Potter dodges, so does Malfoy! They turn around and reach for the helpless little Snitch once again... And, Merlin's beard, _they_ _smash together!"_

All the students, as well as the professors, leaned immediately over the stands' edges for a better view.

Natalie continued, her voice trembling as she pulled her hair nervously with white knuckles. "They plunge, alongside, towards the ground. Can they possibly survive through this horrible fall? Why won't they pull up? They almost seem to be like tangled together! What the devil is going on here? it's as if they were holding hands! Shake him away, Potter! Shake him away! But... Where is the Snitch?"

The spectators started to throw eager glances all across the Quidditch pitch, but nobody seemed to be able to distinguish the tiny golden orb anywhere. The players in both Slytherin and Gryffindor stopped their game and anxiously watched how their seekers battled together, rapidly approaching the ground.

This momentarily lack of attention opened the Slytherin chaser, Malcolm Baddock, a chance to score.

Natalie MacDonald noticed this, and her miserable moan soon echoed all around the stadium. "_Oh no!_ _Slytherin scores!_ It's now thirty to twenty for Slytherin! Aw, come on Harry, kick Malfoy off and get the bloody Snitch already! Oh _no!_ Potter and Malfoy are just about to hit the ground. What in the name of Caramon is going on between them? Why won't they get separated? _Aaaaw__, and here it comes! A horrible crash on the ground! Aaah, I can't watch!"_

Loud rumble filled the stands, and nobody heard what Natalie was furthermore commentating, or if she was commentating at all.

* * *

  
  
The atmosphere on the pitch itself was no less anxious. Malfoy and Potter had indeed shot for the snitch at the same time, and consequently collided with each other. But what made the situation very curious was the funny little fact that they had both caught the Snitch, and neither of them would let it go. They were holding the orb tightly from its two spluttering wings, and they were both so concentrated in fighting for the victory that neither of them paid any attention to the rapidly approaching ground. And, quite gloriously, they finally smashed against the muddy and grassy ground.

"Let go of it, Potter!" Draco grimaced. He was lying on his back, right beside the insufferable Potter. His voice came out hoarse and dangerous, as his lungs were aching mercilessly. His broom had hit him rather badly on the ribs when he had collided with the ground. Yet, he still managed to focus on the situation, and pinched the Snitch from its other wing like a drowning man would clasp a random piece of floating wood. "Let it go!"

"You wish!" Harry snarled. With his left hand, he was massaging the spot where Malfoy's boot had left a handsome imprint during their fall. His other hand was desperately wringing the second wing of the Snitch, far away from letting it go. "I got if _first!"_

They were both exchanging murderous looks and breathing deep and fast like wild beasts. They didn't care that their heads were aching, or that even the tiniest voices rang too loudly in their ears. They didn't mind that their legs and arms were covered in bruises, and the possibility of harbouring several strained joints and broken bones was a trivial, unessential point.

The only thing that mattered to them now, was the powerless golden ball trapped between their fists.

Harry growled loudly and grabbed Draco's fist with his free hand, trying to pry the Slytherin's fingers off the Snitch. Draco responded with another hard kick on Harry's already sore stomach. This made Harry even more furious, and he threw himself on top of the Slytherin, trying to strangle the blonde by pressing his forearm against Draco's throat.

"Give it up, Malfoy, or I'll make sure that you can't eat for days!"

Draco coughed under the pressure on his neck, but still succeeded to gather some strength to kick the infuriating Gryffindor off. Now it was his turn to roll on top of Potter, and once he succeeded, he wasted no time in hitting the Boy Who Lived bitterly in the jaw. "_You_ give it up, you cheap slut! The Snitch is mine! It is _I _who caught it first!"

"The _hell_ you did!" Harry threw the blonde away, ripping his silvery hair and frantically elbowing his ribcage. And once more, he pinned the Slytherin seeker down against the mucky grass mattress, under his own weight. "Gryffindor needs to win this game! I'll kill you if you won't let go of it!"

"I don't care about your petty threats, Golden Boy! As if I would let Gryffindor win!" Malfoy spat. "Besides, it's _my turn! _You've always got it before!"

"And I intend to get it this time, too! Malfoy, give it to me, or I swear I'll kick the life out of you!"

"Oh, yeah?" Draco charged. "I'd like to see you _try!"_

They were staring at each other, their eyes burning. Their faces were only a couple of inches apart, and Harry could suddenly distinguish even the smallest hair of Malfoy's madly scowling eyebrows. Draco's warm puffs of breath ghosted over Harry's lips, and involuntarily, Harry shivered. He stared down at the Slytherin, and suddenly felt very light-headed.

"Oh shit," he gulped, in a mere whisper. "Shit, shit, shit."

Malfoy was staring confusedly in Harry's wide green eyes, not understanding immediately. But when he did, he grinned like a fool. A horrified, amused and _unbelieving_ fool. This was too absurd to be true! Without any warning, he nudged his hips upwards, causing Harry to gasp audibly.

"Well, well, well, Potter. What do we have here?" he drawled.

Harry was so horror-struck that he was nearly paralyzed: he was having a hard-on. A hard-on, because of _Draco Malfoy._Scared out of his wits, he tried to wriggle away, but Malfoy wouldn't let him. Instead, the Slytherin grabbed him firmly by the collar, and pulled him even closer.

"Scared, Potter?" he sneered at Harry's face, very maliciously. It was only then when Harry felt also Malfoy's erection against his own.

Harry took several, nervous breaths and tried to maintain his relatively cool composure. However, his efforts were thrown away from the Astronomy Tower window as his embarrassment and shock were rapidly replaced with fury and rage.

"What did you do to me, Malfoy?" he hissed, and angrily thrust his free hand behind Malfoy's head, gripping the Slytherin's silky hair. With force, he pulled it backwards, and caused Draco to grimace and howl in pain.

Harry felt elated. Malfoy's growls of pain were music to his ears, and he tightened his grip of the blonde's hair even more. He was hurting Malfoy, and it was the best thing he had ever done. Malfoy was helpless, wriggling beneath him, and it was the best sight he had ever seen.

However, these wonderful feelings were short-lived, as even more new sensations started to flood in. To his utter terror, Harry found that he was really _enjoying _this fight. He was _enjoying _the fact that he was in control of Draco Malfoy, and that Draco Malfoy was momentarily in control of him. Hell, this whole wrestling fight had turned him on more than anything that had ever happened before. And Malfoy was noticing it, too.

"I think it is _you_ who wants to _do _something, Potter," Draco sniggered. "Or rather, _someone."_

Harry wanted to scream with rage, but suddenly found Draco's soft, wonderfully scenting hair and baby-soft skin rather distracting factors. He couldn't help it; he just had to lean down, bury his nose in the Slytherin's hair and inhale the delicate apple aroma.

"Potter, you pervert!" Draco hissed. "Don't do that! Let go of the Snitch, and then let go of me!"

Only then Harry remembered the Snitch again. Luckily, he was still holding it with all his might. He looked at Malfoy's manicured fingers that were grasping its other wing, and all of a sudden he felt sick. Malfoy then managed to take him by surprise and the Slytherin kicked him off.

"Potter, you pathetic wanker, why won't you just _once_ let me win?" he moaned.

They were both lying next to each other on the ground. They were panting heavily, and nearly tearing the wings out of the little golden ball between them. Running footsteps were approaching, and the boys finally realized that they were still on the Quidditch pitch, and everyone was watching them. Harry tiredly turned his head, and saw their team members arriving, along with Madam Hooch.

* * *

  
  
Natalie MacDonald had indeed fallen speechless while following the battle on the ground. To the outsiders, their wrestling looked even worse than what Harry and Draco were actually feeling about it. The stands were all clamour and the other players were close to starting a fight as well. However, Madam Hooch was rapidly taking lead of the situation.

"Boys, get up, both of you!" she bellowed.

Slowly, Harry and Draco heaved each other up. It was difficult, because neither of them was letting the Snitch go.

"Good. Now, before we start to clarify this dilemma, I want you to give the Snitch to me."

Neither of the boys obeyed.

"I said," Hooch changed her tone of voice more commanding, "Let go of its wings and give it to me. You're going to break it."

No reaction.

Madam Hooch was slowly turning angry, as well. "I_ said, _let go of it! Right now,or I shall do _Lockharts_on your arms! Potter, you know already how painful it is to re-grow bones. And Malfoy, you should be capable of imagining it! Now, LET IT GO!"

Reluctantly, Harry detached his fingers from the ball's golden wings. When Draco saw him do that, he let go as well, and handed it out to the professor.

Madam Hooch smiled. "Good boys. Now, it seems to me that you both caught the Snitch at the same time. Is this true?"

"No! I got if first, Professor. Potter just tried to steal it from me," Draco hastened to explain.

"I did _not_ try to steal it!" Harry retorted. "It was _you_ who tried to steal it from _me!"_

"So not true!" Draco crossed his arms, and looked menacing. "I really got it first!"

"He's lying, Professor," Harry snarled. "_I _got it first!"

"Quiet, both of you," Madam Hooch sighed. "I have reached my decision. _Sonorus__!"_

Her next words were heard by the entire stadium.

"Mr. Harry Potter and Mr. Draco Malfoy _both_ caught the Snitch!" she declared. "Therefore, the result of this game is as follows: Slytherin wins the game with one hundred and eighty points, and Gryffindor loses with one hundred and seventy points. Congratulations, Slytherin."

The Slytherin stands rioted and cheered. The sixth and seventh years clapped their hands enthusiastically, very satisfied with Madam Hooch's decision. The younger snake hatchlings threw down green confetti and balloons, and waved Slytherin green flags.

The Gryffindor stands remained absolutely quiet.

"But Malcolm Baddock made the score _after_ we caught the Snitch!" Harry roared. "That goal doesn't count! The game should be a draw!"

Murmurs from the other members of the Gryffindor team told that they all had the same opinion. Baddock's goal should not be counted.

"He did it before anybody _saw_ we caught the Snitch!" Malfoy snarled at Harry. "So it _does_ count. We won't take the credit away from him!"

"What _credit?"_ Harry spat. "He did the goal when nobody else was paying attention to the game!"

"That's only because your team is so _stupid _to let that kind of thing to _happen_, Potter!" Malfoy barked. "Oh, but of course! You are still keeping that _Weasel_ as your Keeper."

"Shut it, Malfoy!" Ron Weasley snapped, stepping forwards.

"For the first time in six years, Slytherin defeated Gryffindor," Draco looked haughtily at the red-head. "I'm hardly going to keep quiet about it. And, oh, Weasley? Thanks. You made it damn lot easier for us. How does that feel?"

The Slytherin team laughed. Then they applauded and whistled at themselves, and the players came to punch Malfoy friendly on the back. "You did it, Malfoy! We always knew you could do it! Good job!"

"It's Baddock we should all celebrate today," Draco grinned at the younger chaser who was responsible for their victory. "Great goal. True Slytherin-like scheming."

Malcolm was all sunshine, if that kind of expression was legal to use when it was the question of a Slytherin student. "Thanks, Malfoy!" he beamed.

Madam Hooch stormed away from the pitch, leaving the students to celebrate on their own. Harry took one last look at Malfoy, who was fuller of himself than possibly ever before. Malfoy blew him a kiss, and Harry felt his cheeks redden. The audacity of that jerk! However, in all his hatred and dismay, Harry could not understand why he still felt quite so uncomfortable in his trousers.

Harry cursed himself, and his capricious libido, and turned hastily to follow his team mates who were melancholically walking away from the pitch.

Draco glanced at Harry's direction one last time, and allowed a wide, gleeful grin to spread across his face.  
.

.

...TBC...


	2. Enmity

**2. Enmity**

Harry was standing in front of a mirror in the Gryffindor boys' bathroom. He was staring at himself intently. Green eyes. They were shining like as if he were a madman. His tense mouth was curled to a disgusted frown. He put his fingers trough his tangled ebony hair that was covering the scar on his forehead. And he puked. 

"What is going on?" he thought inside his confused head. "What the hell was that all about? I'm not gay, you know. I am _definitely not gay_!"

He looked again in his own deep, fearful eyes trough the mirror, and received a very doubtful and truth-searching stare. He turned away and puked again in the washbowl.

"And now my life will be nothing but hell, after Malfoy tells the whole school," he grimaced at himself. "And I didn't even do it intentionally!"

He rested on his elbows, staring at the old-fashioned drain where his former breakfast was disappearing, with the help of the silently flooding water. Gingerly, he tried to encounter his reflection once more. The eyes were still there, looking at him uneasily. Harry thought they had the colour of Snape's the most ill-omened poison. Then he concentrated in looking at his scar, which had always made his outer appearance so striking. It was now nearly white, contrasted to his bronze, late summer tan. 

"Malfoy is so pale, I think he doesn't spend much time outside these walls, except for the Quidditch practise," Harry found himself thinking. "Fuck Malfoy, that sickly-looking ferret!" he corrected himself, just in time before he vomited once more. Then he heard the door open behind his back. He saw Ron enter the room via the mirror. 

"Harry, are you alright?" Ron nearly ran to him. "Are you feeling ill?"

"Well, what does it look like, Ron?" he asked, half irritated.

Ron looked at the basin and retired a few steps. "Are you sure you don't need Madam Pomfrey to take a look at you? I mean, that Quidditch match was really violent. But I'm glad you gave Malfoy a hard handling. He if anybody deserved that."

Harry felt his inners give a jolt, yet again. "Don't mention about it."

"Come on, Harry, if you're not going to go to the hospital wing, you can at least accompany Hermione and I to the dinner table. You haven't eaten anything since the match. Although… 'Spect the food doesn't taste to you, just to take notions of what you have in your washbasin." Ron made a disgusted face.

"Uh," Harry pressed his eyes hard closed. "I'm coming. Just give me a minute, okay?"

"Okay." Ron said vaguely. He returned back to the common room, however giving Harry one more concerned a glance.

Harry spluttered fresh water all across his face. He had to go. He had to face what was ahead of him. Sooner or later, he would have to meet everybody anyway. And the more he prolonged it, the worse it would go. He would meet the sneering Slytherins today.

**

Far away from the Gryffindor tower, Draco Malfoy was enjoying himself. Even though he was always the target of admiration wherever he went, today he was also the target of unrestrained attention. He was the hero, not Harry Potter. After the Quidditch match, he had done nothing but had a shower and sat on the softest sofa of Slytherin common room, being the light of the dim dungeon. Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherin girls Millicent, Blaise and Tracey were hanging close around him, flirting wildly. Grabbe and Goyle were boosting their egos telling everyone they were Malfoy's best friends. And the other Slytherins either gave Malfoy wide smiles whenever he happened to look at their direction, or did a loud shemozzle on the aisles of the school about their victory.

"Potter was quite wild today," Blaise Zabini giggled at Draco's ear. "I never knew he was capable of such roughness."

Malfoy flashed his polished teeth to a grin as if something really amusing would have flooded in his brains, concerning the match. "Yeah, he was really wild," he said, trying not to burst out laughing. "Damn that Potter, he ruffled my hairdo. Does it look bad?"

All the Slytherin princesses took horrified expressions and assured Draco that his hair was absolutely spoilt. He scowled jestingly and reached elegantly for the candy pouch at the nearby table. "You know, maybe Harry is trying to spread his own messy hairstyle around the school, so that he'd be less scruffy-looking. And making my hair resemble his own, he thought he'd succeed better. As it is, everybody follows my superior sense of clothing, already."

Millicent gave an agreeing sigh, whereas Pansy and Tracey nodded eagerly. 

"So, did you actually hit him in the face?" asked Mary-Ann Greengrass, who had emerged behind Draco's sofa and was now lolling to its backrest. 

"Well, I had to. He was so… wild," he said, this time actually snorting a little, which was highly non-Malfoyish. "Plus, I've wanted to do that for a long time for fun, you know."

"Ooh, but it was so brave to do that in front of the whole school!" Pansy fluttered her long black lashes at Draco. Tracey and Millicent seemed nearly to swoon from admiration.

The girls kept on praising him for another thirty minutes, until it was time for the dinner. 

Malfoy had not thought about Potter since the question about punching him in the face, but as he casually walked towards the Great Hall, his thoughts returned to him again. Had that… that… well, had the 'accident' been a meaningless reaction of some sort from his body? Or had there been something else? It was nothing surprising to Draco that also the boys were drooling after him. There were two particularly amusing cases in Hufflepuff house, Justin Flich-Fletchley and Wayne Hopkins, whom Draco thought were a couple. And then there was also Montague from his own house, and Terry Boot from Ravenclaw. Terry had actually written Draco a love letter. Not that Draco ever answered it, though. It was not his style. 

But the subject now at hand was Harry Potter. Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. He, a gay? No way. That was one thing impossible in the universe –impossible even in the magical universe. Draco shrugged the subject unflappably away and forgot about it once more. He found his seat at the Slytherin table and began to pile loads of steamed crawfish on his plate, with neat sways of his hand.

**

When entering the Great Hall, Harry thought everybody were looking at him curiously. He blushed slightly, but continued his way unwaveringly to the table. Nearly all the other Gryffindors were already there, eating with great appetite. Hermione and Ron sat next to each other on the other side of the table, when Harry found a free seat opposite to them. Not one second had passed by when Seamus Finnigan addressed him, his mouth full of red caviar. 

"Awful match it was today. You really look like a wreck, Harry. But I don't blame you. That malicious little pure-blooded brat! Bet he'll tease you the rest of the month about Slytherin's _stiff but gorgeous rising to the victory_, as I heard him say just a minute ago."

"Yeah, bet he will," Harry replied, swallowing hard. He reached for the potato bowl and chose six potatoes by oversight.

"Wow, you must be really hungry, Harry," Colin Creevey exclaimed, taking a photo of his full plate. "Exciting match it was today, Harry. Dennis and I have sore throats for… cough!... for yelling so many encouraging words to you, Harry! And don't be depressed at all because of our loss. You were still a really hard opponent for Malfoy."

"Uh, thanks," Harry uttered, poking the crab pincers in front of his nose indifferently with his fork, trying to keep his thoughts away from anything referred to 'hard', 'stiff' or 'rising'.

Hermione was giving him worried glares, accompanied with Ron. Harry was sure Ron had told her what he'd seen him doing in the bathroom. Thus, he avoided looking at Hermione, because he really didn't want her to ask any questions. Actually, he didn't want anybody asking questions right now, except himself. He rolled over the sweaty little crayfish on his plate and bit his lower lip. He ventured to take a demure glance towards the Slytherin table. 

There he was, sitting like the owner of the world between his bodyguards Grabbe and Goyle. Draco Malfoy. The slimiest git of the world. And yet, he needed to find the courage to ask that question. He needed to know if he had told everybody about what really had happened on the field today. Because, at least the Gryffindor students did not seem to know yet. As to that, Harry did not want them to know either. He would do anything to keep Malfoy's mouth sealed. Anything. As far as that sealing didn't happen with his lips. 

Instantly, Harry fumed at himself for even thinking about such a sick choice of action. Kissing Malfoy? What next! Having a shower with a blast-ended Skrewt? He left the Great Hall without having touched his food. 

**

The sky had disappeared behind a thick, dark grey could mass by seven o'clock in the evening. Harry was alone in his bedroom, sitting by the window, listening the distant rumble of the approaching storm. Tomorrow, the first two lessons would be Potions with Professor Snape –and with Slytherin. Harry found this fact both appalling and satisfying at the same time. Though there were little things he hated more than Potion classes, he would perhaps be able to talk a few words to Malfoy. Able to ask him if everybody knew. 

Talk to Malfoy? Harry massaged his aching left shoulder and made a grimace at the darkening evening. Talk to Malfoy was something he had never in his life done before. That is, he had never started a conversation with him. Never tried, never wanted, never cared to do that. The only occasions they had been conversing were the situations Malfoy had been harrying either him, Hermione or Ron. And now, Harry would have to change some _reasonable, _and most of all _important_ words with him. How to do that? What to say to him?

"Hi, Malfoy? Wanna change a word?" Harry practised. Grimacing, he tried again. "Hullo, Malfoy. Could you have a word with me?"

Harry shook his black curls and sighed. He sounded ridiculous. 

"Malfoy. I want a word. Now." 

Hmm. Better. 

"Malfoy, you brag pill, have you got the courage to change a couple of words with me –without your lard-ass bodyguards?" 

Nah. Right attitude, but too digressing. The previous try was better.

Harry scowled at the eagle owl that was passing his view. It was carrying a large package towards the Slytherin end of the castle. Distantly, Harry recognized it as Malfoy's. 

"Maybe I should write him a letter?" he mused. "Malfoy –git. Tell me once and for all… oh, not _for all_, hmm… tell me this instant if you have told anybody about what happened at the Q. pitch. Anyone at all? Because, if you have, you'll find your stupid show-off eagle owl carrying you a package of shovels next –for your funeral."

Harry slammed his hands across his mouth. He was horrified what he had just said. Had he just threatened to hurt Malfoy? To _kill_ Malfoy? Images and words from their earlier fight rose in front of his eyes. _"Give it to me, or I will kick the life out of you!"_ he had yelled. Harry was trembling. Had _he_ said that to Malfoy, not the opposite way? What was wrong with him?

Harry closed his eyes, cold sweat emerging on his scarred forehead. He must have started really to hate Malfoy at some point of the term. Really, deeply hate him. This aggressive behaviour was not typical of Harry. Why was he like that? The reason wasn't Malfoy's usual childish bullying –it had never bothered him _that_ much. No… But why, then? Why did he feel so belligerent towards him?

That night Harry went to sleep early, hoping he would not see his usual nightmares about Draco ripping his heart out of his chest again. 

...to be continued...


	3. Poison

**3.Poison**

When Draco Malfoy steered his graceful steps towards the Potions dungeon that morning, little did he expect to see Harry Potter standing right behind the entrance of the Slytherin common room, waiting for him. Sooner than he could open his mouth to say anything, Potter had grasped him from the collar and was now hauling him roughly away. 

Just before disappearing in the rarely used aisle at their left, Malfoy saw his pals Vincent Grabbe and Gregory Goyle standing at the common room doorway, too thunderstruck to do a thing to prevent Potter from stealing away their bossy leader. Draco rapidly suspected that a real lightning-bolt had hit them, since it was now storming outside, and since their faces were even more obtuse than normally. Or had it been the lightning-shaped scar on Potter's forehead that had done the trick?

Draco's mind whirled back to the reality when Potter smashed him against a cold stonewall, out of everybody's sight.

"Watch it, Potter, you're ruining my suit! It's Wizard Armani, if you know what that means."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry snarled. He glared dubiously at the platinum-haired Adonis of the school. "I don't give a damn about your sodding clothes."

Draco sharpened his eyes, so that they narrowed into stripes. He observed Harry's expression calculatingly. Admittedly, it was very angry –but it was also insecure. However, the most important thing at the moment was that Harry was no more crumpling his costly design shirt with his detestable half-blood fingers. 

"So, what do you want with me, Potter?" Draco growled, smoothing his collar back to its form. "Or, do you just plainly want _me_?" he sneered, as a clever afterthought.

Harry clenched his fists. He knew Malfoy was just trying to get a rise out of him, as usual. And because last night Harry had realized how exceptionally harshly he had been lately behaving, he made an extra effort this morning not to thwack Malfoy in the head.

"Did you tell them?" he insisted.

Draco pretended to be indifferent and clueless. "Tell what to whom?"

"You know very well what I mean, Malfoy," Harry sizzled, shooting deadly glances at the blonde boy.

"Ah, you mean your…" Draco began, smiling wickedly.

"Yes." Harry interrupted him flat. "Did you tell anyone?" 

Draco could not help smirking slyly. This seemed to drive Harry out of his wits, but Draco admitted that the school's hero was doing a fine job controlling his muscles.

"No, I didn't tell," Draco answered. There was a glint of something half amused, half curious in his otherwise cold, grey irises. 

"Why?" Harry blurted out, before he could prevent himself. He was so relieved. 

"What do you mean ´why´?" Draco was reading Harry's face like an open book, but decided to tease him a little more, as usual. "Do you want me to tell, then?" 

"No!" Harry gasped. "I want you to keep your bloody mouth shut, do I make myself clear?" 

To enhance the effect of his words, Harry took a few steps closer to Draco, poking the Slytherin's chest with his index.

"Perfectly clear," Draco grinned, poisonously. "Except that there's a serious lack of some persuasive attractiveness in you." 

"What do you want, then?" Harry was disgusted. Although, he had been half expecting that Malfoy would want something in return of his silence. It was only natural for the spoilt brat of the Slytherin house. 

"You could start with, say, coming out of the cupboard under the stairs, of which I have heard so much gossip of," Draco took his most evil smile. "I would love to laugh at the faces of the people when they find out you are not straight."

Harry merely looked horrified.

"What did your Uncle do to you, Potter? Or your Muggle cousin?" Draco changed his expression, and pretended to be both interested and concerned about Potter's childhood experiences. Raising his eyebrows in an implying way, he whispered, "Some horrible things, perhaps?" 

This was the last drop for Harry. He attacked Draco, kicking him down on the floor of the aisle. "They – Did - Nothing!" he yelled between his kicks. "I – Am – NOT - GAY!" he continued, storming over the helpless Slytherin who was lying on the ground. Harry clutched Draco's soft locks like the previous day, and dragged him into a sitting position against the opposite wall. 

He was taken back when he found out that Malfoy was laughing his lungs out. Harry prodded the boy's head against the rough wall, and Malfoy moaned, however not capable of quitting his hilarious outburst. 

"What the fuck is so funny, Malfoy?" Harry hissed from between his teeth. 

Draco coughed a couple of times, and found out his nose was bleeding. "Fuck! Potter!" he uttered, looking at his fingers that were drenched in blood.

"Out of laughing, are you finally?" Harry mumbled angrily, horrified of what he had just done to the other boy. 

"Oh, yes I am, bloody hell! Look at my shirt now!" Draco tried to stand up, but his head was swirling and he collapsed back down. Then he kicked Harry on the knee and made him jump backwards. Harry yelled with sudden pain. 

"Bastard," Draco exhaled.

Harry backed and glared at his arch enemy, holding his aching knee. "What were you laughing about, Malfoy?" he repeated his question.

"Oh, just the way you take this whole thing. So seriously," Draco grimaced, trying to take a hold of his bleeding nose. "There would have been no point in telling anybody in the first place," he continued. "Which means you saw all this trouble of spoiling my clothes in vain. Who fucking cares if you have a thing about me? Everybody has a thing about me!"

Harry was confused. "You wouldn't have told?" he exclaimed, looking dumb. 

"For Merlin's sake, I surely would have, if I had known it would cause you this much head-ache!" Draco said, trying again to stand up. "As such, I…" 

"Don't even think about it, Malfoy," Harry threatened, once more, and grabbed his wand, thinking of a memory charm. He looked at Draco, whose bloody face was beautifully outlined by the flames of the torch standing on the wall behind his back. His silvery hair had a golden rim, and his pale skin seemed to get a velvety, peachy tan. 

_Oh, shit. Oh, shit! Not again!_ Harry felt his jeans become tighter.

For both Harry's luck and misfortune, Professor Snape emerged at the end of the aisle just then, finally interrupting their quarrel. Snape was looking infuriated. Half of the Potions class was curiously leering behind him, trying to see what was going on. Harry quickly tried to hide his wand out of sight, but Professor Snape had caught a glimpse of it already. 

"Mr. Potter!" the black-haired teacher bellowed, his voice as cold as liquid nitrogen, "What the hell is going on here?"

Snape's eyes turned from Harry to Draco, taking in the bleeding nose and the bruised cheek of his favourite student. Draco squealed and held his stomach, to make the impression even more striking. In secret, he flashed Harry a malicious smirk, which proved he was half acting. Harry ground his teeth when Snape addressed him again. 

"One hundred points from Gryffindor!" the Professor's voice was trembling with fury. "And you shall also get detention, Mr. Potter, as soon as Professor McGonagall hears about this!"

Snape looked back at Draco again. He went to the boy, helping him up. "Hospital Wing, Malfoy. This instant."

The following Potions class was a nightmare. Harry was forced to sit between Grabbe and Goyle. The two nut-heads were acting very threateningly towards him, because he had beaten up their ah-so-wonderful leader Draco Malfoy. Every other second, they were jostling Harry with their porky elbows and stepping on his toes with their remarkable weight, which behaviour reminded Harry of his cousin Dudley. Thinking about Dudley and the Dursleys again brought now Draco back to Harry's mind, and the horrible things he had said about them. 

"That rotting piece of waste," he murmured under his breath, while trying to peel some mandrake root. "Although Uncle Vernon and his family have been what they have been, they've never done anything like _that_ to me! Aw, by Morgan Le Fay's raven hair, they are too repulsed to even lay a finger on me!"

Goyle looked at Harry under his thick, bushy black brows. "Why did you batter Draco, Potter?" he frowned, "Jealous of him getting as good at Quidditch as you are, eh?"

Harry snorted, and encountered the boy's little, leaky eyes with the feeling of utmost obstinacy. "He's not better! Yesterday was mere luck, and the game should have been a draw."

All the Slytherins around him protested loudly, which made the Gryffindor half of the class enhance their voices as well. It was close to become the first group fight in Snape's dungeon, until the Professor himself decided the quarrel had gone too far. He ended the class five minutes earlier than due, and left the room for the hospital wing. He had just brewed a potion for Draco that would make him feel better.

"Till Wednesday then, brats!" Snape snarled and disappeared, his dark cloak furiously swinging behind him. 

"What is _wrong_ with you, Harry?" Ron asked, as soon as they were walking back towards the Gryffindor Tower. "You've been acting very aggressively, lately. _Very_ strangely." 

Harry did not answer, only stared at his feet, remembering to dodge the trap step of the stairs. 

"You know, you can talk about anything to us, Harry," Hermione said, being slightly out of breath, heaving her heavy schoolbag.

"Not about this. This is between me and Malfoy," Harry finally spoke.

"Did he do something to you?" Ron clamped his fists together. "Because, if he did…" 

"I took already care of that, Ron," Harry found himself smiling. Ron smiled back, but Hermione gave him a strange look. 

"It's not like you usually beat up people, Harry. Even if it was Malfoy."

Harry shrugged. "True. But I just felt the urge to destroy something beautiful, and I couldn't help myself, until it was too late." 

_Beautiful?__ Did I just say beautiful? _Harry made a face at himself.

"I think I'm skipping the Divination today, Ron," he continued, hoping that his friends would not pay attention to his previous words. "You know, I don't need more ill experiences for the day. And, I'm not feeling very well, either."

Ron and Hermione changed meaningful gazes, and silently agreed to be quiet. If Harry wanted to tell them what was going on, he would do it when he was ready. 

"Every-flavour beans!" Hermione said, and the Fat Lady swung aside, letting the trio enter the Gryffindor common room.

The day was indeed stormy. Outrageous. Wonderful act of nature. Reflecting perfectly the state of Harry's feelings. 

Harry raised his eyes at the nearly black sky and decided to go out for a walk. He wrapped himself tightly in his blackest cloak, pulling the hood over his shaggy locks. The eyeglasses he left on the table, them being so useless under the pouring rain. He cast a spell for his eyes to see perfectly well without them, and strode off towards the Forbidden forest. 

Harry was soaking wet already before he reached Hagrid's cabin. He saw the warm light flooding outside from the Key-keeper's window, but did not feel like going to knock on the door. He wanted and needed to be all alone right now. 

_What has gone into me? _He thought, as he walked slowly along the border of the sinister forest. _Well, at least I made myself clear to Malfoy. He knows what will happen if he… Oh shit, that's exactly what I meant! What has gone into me? _Harry slid the hood down from his head and looked straight upwards, letting the heavy raindrops patter against his face. He tasted them, licked them with his tongue off his lips. 

Some of them tasted salty.

…TBC…


	4. The Nightmare

**4. The Nightmare**

Draco Malfoy was slouching in his hospital bed, taken care by Madame Pomfrey. He groaned and whined, trying to make the poor nursemaid more worried and solicitous than what she truly should have been. 

Draco was bored. Not that he didn't enjoy a bit of solitude after Potter's handling, but he just couldn't rest still. He therefore landed from the bed, and went to examine the vast nursery room. A sudden feeling of uneasiness found its way under his chest. _What the hell is bothering Potter? He's never shown this openly how much he hates me._ Draco's fingers ran along the sheets of the neatly made beds as he walked forwards. _For he must hate me, right?_

Draco bit his full lips and tossed his fine hair behind his ear. _And_ _I hate Harry… Just as much as before. That hideous, crack-minded Ass-Who-Lived. Draco's pearly pupils went larger. _Did I just think Potter as Harry? Shit, I'm losing my touch. __

It had been the day when Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter first truly met, when their disagreements had started. Harry had rejected Malfoy's friendship, and Draco had not gone searching for it again. From that very first day on at Hogwarts, they had been considered as enemies –later on even as mortal enemies. And not only by themselves -their houses had always supported this exiting development with full hearts. And thus it had grown more difficult during the years for Harry and Draco to become friends. Now, at their sixth school year, Draco did not even want to be a friend of that famous show-off, where as Potter had started taking actually physical methods for showing the lot how much he hated Draco. 

Draco shrugged casually and headed towards the window. The grounds beyond were absolutely cauldron black, and nothing could be distinguished from the darkness. Draco looked at his reflection from the window glass. It was cursive, its outlines blurred beyond recognition, but he could still see how very pale he was. He reached his hand out and touched the spot on the glass where his cheek was reflected. Just above it, two cobalt eyes were twinkling at him. _Ice Prince. No wonder they call me that,_ he thought. _Harry is so much different from me. In every way. _

Right then, the door opened and Severus Snape entered the hospital hall, holding a vial of something emerald green in his hands. _Shit, not emerald green._

"Draco," he nodded. 

Draco grimaced at the leader of his house, and forced a slight smile. "Professor."

Snape approached him with rapid steps. "You nearly caused a group fight down in the dungeons today, did you know that?"

"Were they all girls?" Draco jested, watching as the Professor opened the vial and scented it. 

"No, it was Potter," Snape forced a lop-sided smile, and then gave the vial to Draco. "Here, take this. You should feel no pain when drinking it."

"Does it have the side-effect of drunkenness?" Draco hopefully asked.

"I'm afraid not," Severus said. "But it surely can make you feel a bit feeble." 

With this, the Potions master hurried away, leaving Draco once again alone. Madame Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen, either.

The night fell for the second time after the embarrassing Quidditch match. The rain had ceased a bit, taken for the fact that the dormitory window wasn't any more in danger to smash inside from the force of the drops. Harry stayed awake, wondering if Draco Malfoy was reasonable enough to keep quiet. Surely he was.

Harry looked around him. It was nearly midnight, and all his friends were already asleep. Ron was breathing heavily just in the next bed from his own, holding something in his hands that resembled a headless figure of Viktor Krum. Seamus and Dean were slumbering silently in their own four-posters, buried under their thick blankets. And Neville was snoring loudly, having his mattress closest to the door. Harry put his eyeglasses back on his nose.

Then something else dawned in Harry's mind, making him go yellowish pale. It was something Draco had said to him. "_Who cares if you have a thing about me? Everybody has a thing about me." _

"I do not have a thing about him!" Harry heard himself moan out loud. "And I didn't even correct him! Damn!"

Without thinking, he began to fumble his trunk, finding there the Marauder's Map and his father's old Invisibility Cloak.

"I solemnly swear I'm up to no good."

As soon as the map of Hogwarts had emerged on the parchment, Harry began to search a certain tiny spot of ink from there. 

As the midnight arrived, Draco was still slumbering in the hospital wing, trying every now and then to swallow the potion Snape had given him. It tasted awful. As a Malfoy, he had not used to eat or drink anything that wasn't delicious. He spat the liquid out of his mouth, and swore.

"You don't need to do that anymore, you already deserved me four hours of polishing shoes," came a voice from nowhere. 

Draco sprang into a stiff sitting position, aghast. He scanned across the room, seeing nobody. 

"Fuck, am I hearing voices, now?" he grumbled his brows, dropping his tired body back to the pillows.

"Hearing voices is not a good thing," the mysterious voice continued, with a smirk in the tone. "Believe me, I know."

Draco lay rigidly, trying to convince himself he was not going mad.

"Damn, guess Potter really smashed my head," he groaned silently.

"I did not!" the voice yelled. "You are perfectly fine, you stupid drama-queen, and you know it!"

Then, at the right of his bed, Draco saw Harry Potter's head emerge in the air. He gasped terrified, and almost fell off his bed. "Potter, what the fuck…?"

Harry removed the rest of the Invisibility Cloak and revealed himself to Malfoy. He was wearing a forest green pullover and black cotton trousers, where as Malfoy was only having a silk pajama on –actually, half pajama. The upper part of it was lying on the floor, after Draco had thrown it there when being too hot an hour ago.

Harry looked at Malfoy's bruised body. It was worse than what he had expected, but still not that bad. Not at all bad, actually. Muscular arms and fit stomach, accompanied with that famous smooth skin of his. Harry didn't dare look at his torso longer, and chose to meet the patient's eyes.

Harry inhaled deep. He had never given a good look at Malfoy's eyes before. Eyes that were like two shards of broken mirror –sharp and dangerous, reflecting twisted thoughts. 

"You know, Potter, you are sometimes very spooky," Draco said, still breathing rapidly. Harry couldn't help staring at his eyes. 

Those eyes… those eyes that were just bitter, silvery poison for him. Those eyes that had haunted him for six years, never showing a glimpse of regret. Those eyes… Malfoy's eyes. 

"Why don't you say anything?" Harry heard Draco ask. "What are you staring at? I don't have the whole evening for your stupid tricks, Potter!"

"Sorry," Harry hastily uttered, immediately hating himself for saying that. "I mean, don't get the wrong picture. I just wanted to see you. S-so I could, er, tell you that you were wrong. Earlier today. Uh… And I wanted to correct this matter."

"By scaring me out of my pants?" Draco leered, casting a silvery arrow in Harry's chest, without knowing it. Harry felt himself blush despite himself. 

"Uh… I just wanted to say…" Harry halted. 

He had planned the exact words in his head. _I don't have a thing about you, Malfoy, you stupid git. But something stopped Harry from saying those words, now. Those eyes…_

"Yes?" said Draco, casually as always, raising his other eyebrow. He seemed to be now perfectly composed, relaxed and easy with the situation. 

"Nothing," Harry heard his voice echoing in the dim hall. "Nothing." 

And he strode away, taking the Invisibility Cloak under his arm. His face was burning. He felt Malfoy gazing after him with utmost perplexity.

_Darkness.__ Just plain, light-absorbing darkness. And heartbeats. Loud, rumbling, body-shaking heartbeats. A feeling of being very much alive._

_Then, the eyes.__ Something very bright flashes in the blackness. Something luminously grey… Again, the eyes. And a wave of cold wind. _

_Waiting.__ Waiting keenly. Waiting horrified. _

_And he comes. The ink-black mist disappears and is replaced with a green square room. There, right in the centre, he is waiting. He is waiting for me. Draco Malfoy._

_"Come, Harry," says his voice, yet a voice so much different._

_And I go. I walk to him._

_He runs his fingers along my cheekbones before resting them right above my heart. _

_"This is mine, Harry," he says. His voice is distant, echoing. _

_I look him in the eyes. Something luminously grey…_

_"This is mine, Harry," he says again, thrusting his fingers inside my chest._

_Searing pain.__ Then, torturing numbness._

_I look at my heart which is resting in his hands. It is beating as vividly as always. I cannot feel it, though._

_I collapse. My knees hit the greenness of the room. _

_"Give it back… please… please…"_

_I fall. I fall trough the greenness. Trough the blackest mist I have ever seen. And I hear his laughter inside my head. _

_I fall. With horrible speed. _

Harry rolled off his bed, completely covered with cold sweat. He woke up Ron with the noise that he caused.

"Harry?" Ron mumbled, drowsily. "What happened?"

"Nothing, Ron… Just that stupid nightmare, again." 

Harry rose up and sat on the edge of his bed, shaking his head miserably. _That stupid nightmare again… Again…_

…TBC…


	5. Polishing Shoes

**5. Polishing Shoes...**

It is a worn-out phrase to say that after the storm, the sun will be shining more brightly than before it. However, when Draco woke up that morning in the hospital wing, it was because of the dazzling beams of sun that found his closed lids, and not because of a noisy thunder.

The boy slid smoothly out of his bed, tiredly stalking at the open window. The air outside was fresh, good to breathe. Thin mist of evaporating morning dew hovered above every flower, grass and hay. Draco inhaled the lucid air on the top of his lungs and closed his eyes. 

It was a very early morning, taken for the fact that the birds were chirping with undying enthusiasm where as the castle itself was dead silent. A chilly blow came inside from the direction of the escaping nightly shadows, making Draco's shirtless body shudder. 

Draco's expression went angrily puzzled, when he suddenly remembered what had happened the previous night. Harry Potter had come to see him.

"He really needs to drag his ass at St. Mungo's," Draco mused. "He's barking mad, for Raistlin's sake!"

The doors opened and Madame Pomfrey sailed in the ward, interrupting Draco's thoughts. 

"Good Morning, Mr. Malfoy!" he brightly said, "You are free to go, now." 

She laid a stack of clean clothes in Malfoy's arms.

"What are these?" Draco asked, suspiciously lifting a sleeve of the pullover that was made of bright red wool.

"Pansy Parkinson sends you her best wishes," the nursemaid said, and then noticed Draco's expression. "Better take it, unless you want to run along the aisles in pajamas. Your own, blood-spoiled clothes are now to be washed and cleaned by the house-elves."

Looking desperately miserable, Draco began to pull the crimson shirt over his head. "I'll get Pansy for this… Bet she's laughing her ass off…"

When Draco entered the Slytherin common room half an hour later, it was already beginning to fill up with people. He scanned trough the room and saw Vincent and Gregory eating a pile of muffins next to the quenched fireplace. _Those fat squids… It's not yet seven, and they're filling their bottomless tummies with goodies. Repulsive!_

"Oi! Malfoy!" 

A couple of Draco's housemates approached him with rapid steps from the direction of the boys' dormitories. 

"Montague. Etre." Draco nodded his good mornings.

"Good to see you up and going, Malfoy," Rodriquez Montague grinned, eyeing gleefully Draco's red pullover.

"Thanks, I know everybody missed me," Draco jested, casting the boy a warning look which told that it was best for him not to mention a single word about his garments.

"And the plans?" Montague changed the topic, lowering his voice treacherously.

"Are we still on schedule?" joined in Etre.

"But of course we are," Draco smiled, mysteriously. "But let's keep this very quiet, still, ay?"

Montague nodded in perfect understanding, and left with Etre towards the Great Hall for breakfast.

It was that time of the year when the Halloween was coming closer. Actually, it would be the following Friday. Draco simpered at himself when thinking about the plan he'd just conversed with Rodriguez and Justin. They and some other sixth and seventh year Slytherins were having their own plans considering the magical Halloween evening this year. A party it would be –only not just any party. The whole project was a top secret. 

Draco swung the door of his dormitory-room open and went to look at his reflection from a full-length mirror. He made a desperate face, gave a faint whine, and ran in the bathroom to get rid of the offending red pullover, and have a shower.

Tuesdays were the best days for Harry Potter. No classes with Trelawney, and what was more important, no classes with Slytherin.

"Harry?" asked Hermione, when they were walking towards Hagrid's cabin for the Care of Magical Creatures. "You don't seem to be yourself this morning. What is it?"

"Harry had a nightmare," informed Ron, before Harry could answer. "He hardly sleeps well nowadays. Last night was extremely bad, mind. He collapsed out of his bed."

Hermione looked quizzically at Harry. "What kind of a nightmare?"

"Eh…" Harry got very interested in the by-passing butterfly. "Just something very… scary."

"Do you see it often?" Hermione's voice reached the familiar know-it-all –tone. "Namely, I've just recently read about this one herbal potion which could help you out."

"He sees it every night," Ron again put words in Harry's mouth. "And sometimes I wake up when he's mumbling out loud something like 'give it back' or 'please don't take it'."

"What is it that you want back, Harry? Who do you see in your dreams?" inquired Hermione, studying Harry's face intensely. It was disturbed.

"Hey, look, what are _those_?" Harry changed the subject rapidly, pointing at something in front of Hagrid's cottage. 

"Ooh, Giant Dragon-flies!" cried Lavender Brown, who had emerged nearby with Parvati Patil. 

Harry swore in his mind. _Dragon flies! This can't be happening to me!_

Lavender encouraged Hermione and Parvati to run closer and take a better look at the beautiful, huge insects that were fluttering their enormous wings in the sunshine. They had slim, silvery bodies and heads like serpents' ones. 

_This is going to be _very_ interesting, Harry sighed and found his place between Stephen Cornfoot and Padma Patil, both of them from Ravenclaw. _

"Good morning, kids!" Hagrid beamed. He was very glad to see how enthusiastic some of the students were about his newest monsters. "Today, yeh are goin' ter study these lil' nasty Drahgen-flies. Anybody know what they can do?"

Lavender's hand shot in the air, even quicker than Hermione's, which was very unusual. Hermione frowned when Lavender got to answer, and because her answer was perfectly right. 

"They are dangerous for those who try to touch them by means of anything else but dragon hide gloves. They have four, deadly poisonous stings on their tail, just like serpent fangs. If they attack, only one strike of their stingers can dispel any protecting magic. They eat mostly little rodents. They are very quick fliers. They breed in gigantic hives. They live in swamps," Lavender lectured, tossing her long blonde hair.

Harry suddenly woke up from his silent trance. _Lavender is rather beautiful. She's got perfect ivory skin, shining white hair and wonderfully formed lips. And her eyes are sky blue, almost grey… _

Harry spent the whole lesson staring at Lavender Brown. An idea was forming in his mind slowly. He would ask Lavender out for a date. He was _not_ gay, and he would let everybody see that. He would let _Malfoy_ see that. 

That afternoon after dinner Harry wrote Lavender a letter, asking her if she would like to go out with him. A quick answer came, confirming Harry's plans. Lavender was all rambling and very much interested. Half of her answer was plain praise of Harry's gorgeous outer appearance as well as disbelieving sentences that Harry would really ask her out. They agreed to go to the Three Broomsticks next Hogsmeade weekend, together.

Draco was having a boring day. First class of the day was History of Magic with Binns, and the second was Astronomy with Sinistra. After the lunch time, he felt like skipping the Divination, and going to relax in front of Slytherin common room fire. _I might as well start preparing the house for the party,_ he mused, walking down the stairs.

The Halloween party would be thrown in one of the roomier dungeons of Hogwarts, and the guests would be very much selected. From Slytherin, there were coming all the seventh and sixth year students, which was only natural since they were the ones that gave the little get-together. From the other houses, guests would be able to enter only when specially invited by one of the Slytherins. And no younger than sixth years were allowed at all, since the party's nature would not allow it. Not nearly.

"I think I must get Greengrass and Davis help Parkinson and Bulstrode to take care of the snacks," Draco mumbled at himself, silently. "I certainly cannot appoint Grabbe and Goyle to do that. And the drinks… Only Montague, Etre, Warrington and Bole can get what we need. Certainly not butterbeer…"

The furnishing of the huge dungeon room Draco was doing on his own, or perhaps with a little help from his best friend, Blaise Zabini. The girl had a good eye, and the special Halloween night festivity just had to be perfect. Draco had already commanded some of his friends to drag several thick and soft Persian carpets down from some of the rarely-used castle rooms. The carpets were coloured dark green, black or crimson red, and they were completely covering the stone floor. Black and cherry curtains and drapes were conjured at every wall of the room, if not those few spots where mystical, green-flamed torches would be standing. 

"And the dress-code…" Draco took out his wand and lit the grate. Green flames made his irises turn opaque jade. "Something very sexy."

The day went rapidly forwards for Harry Potter. At eight o'clock in the evening, he was sitting on the floor in Professor Snape's office, very busy with polishing shoes. He was having his detention tonight. It was his third pair of shoes going, and he was bitter, infuriated and rebellious. With an old rag, he was wiping the dusts off from Snape's black leather boots.

"Do a careful job with those, Potter," the slippery-haired Head of Slytherin house said, being all ice. "I will be using them next Halloween, and I want to see my face reflecting from them after your handling."

Harry bit his lips and thus avoided the urge to say something that would have been highly disadvantageous for him. Instead, he just felt like throwing the bloody boot at Snape's crook-nosed face. He held that urge, too.

There was a sharp knock on the door and somebody pushed it half ajar.

"Come in, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, much more warmly, if it was possible for the sour professor.

Harry as much as saw his arms paralyze with odd fear. _Malfoy! Pressing his eyes firmly down, Harry tried to make his hands move again._

"Good evening, Professor," came Draco's drawling voice from behind Harry's back. "Potter, nice to see you having a good time, for a change," he sneered.

Harry heard Draco's steps come closer. _Airy steps, he thought. _He thinks he's so elegant! As if! __

The steps halted in front of his nose.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry cast a flammable gaze at Draco, as green as Avada Kedavra.

"Heard you're polishing shoes tonight. Remember you almost invited me?" Draco offhandedly said, glancing at the dark ceiling. Harry knew he was referring to the previous night.

Harry stayed quiet. He didn't trust himself to speak. He only glared at Malfoy and felt like demolishing the acid smile that was rippling on the boy's lips with his fists.

"So, what about making an effort with these?" Draco continued, lifting his trouser legs, giving Harry a good view at a pair of smooth suede loafers.

"Fuck you, Malfoy. I'm not touching your muddy shoes," Harry snarled.

"Now, now, Potter," Professor Snape put in, without lifting his gaze from his parchments. "Do what ever Mr. Malfoy tells you to do. This is your detention."

"Plus, you owe me a huge apology," Draco added, flashing Harry his prettiest smile.

"Apology my ass," Harry murmured, throwing the dirty polishing rag towards the blonde. 

"I might just do that, if you first would please take your pants down," Draco leered. "You know, Potter, I am proud of you. Coming out so quickly after…"

"Shut up, Draco!" Harry's voice was savage.

"And when did we start calling each other by the first names, Potter?" Draco asked, his smirk lethal. 

Harry instantly saw his mistake, and looked at the floor, confused. Draco simpered.

"Now, get down here, Potter! Make sure there's not the tiniest touch of dust to be found in the seams of my shoes after this session."

Harry encountered Malfoy's sharp eyes. They were crystallised –no straight picture or thought could be found in them. Then Harry looked at Snape and met his black, oily stare. It told him he'd better not rebel, or else…

"Oh, and one more thing," Draco said. "I'm not taking my shoes off. Want to enjoy your punishment full-heartedly."

Harry swallowed his fury and crawled at Malfoy's feet. The fair-haired Slytherin plunged in an armchair, stretching his legs invitingly forwards. Harry had no other option than to take Malfoy's other foot in his hand and begin to tame the loafer's facade with a spongy suede-brush.

Minutes passed by in complete silence, let alone the occasional, scratching sound of Professor Snape's quill. Harry lost himself in his thoughts and began to do his job in a half off-handed way. He was burning from the inside, feeling Malfoy's warm ankle trough a high-quality sock while keeping his foot in his hand. _Lavender,_ Harry thought. _Think about Lavender!_

Thinking about Lavender did not seem to work out very well. Malfoy's presence was intoxicating and disturbing. Every time Harry succeeded to create Lavender's pretty face in front of his eyes, it began to melt slowly to somebody else. The sparkling blonde hair shortened, the jaw lines became more masculine. The eyes were completely grey already from the beginning on. And her mouth seemed to twist in a familiar, sneering smile, which did not belong to Lavender at all.

Carefully, Harry glanced upwards. He faced Draco, who was watching him serenely back. Harry flinched, ever so slightly. There was no hate, no wicked playfulness reflecting from those eyes this time. Draco Malfoy just stared at Harry, plainly and intently. Harry looked back down quickly, very abashed, and began to work with the heel of the loafer more keenly than before.

Draco relaxed in his chair, watching Potter crawl at his feet. He felt odd satisfaction of the feeling of domineering, as well as pleasure. For a moment he wondered if he should start some mischievous conversation with Potter, but then his heart gave a sudden jolt and he held his intention. Draco didn't like that jolt at all. He shrivelled his other eyebrow, very irritated.

Draco looked carefully at Harry, at his ebon hair and the muscular arms that were working so hard. Then he grinned maliciously at Harry's eyeglasses and reddened cheeks. Next, he observed Harry's demeanour. _My, my, he's pretty sexy when he's having that little thunderstorm inside him, and when he can't release it. _

Draco went thoughtful, almost severe. _Did I just consider Potter sexy?_

Right then, Harry happened to glance at him, straight in the eyes. Malfoy felt something melt under his ribs and didn't like the feeling of it. Not at all. Luckily, Harry returned his eyes quickly down and Draco was freed from their sudden, petrifying power.

Draco sat silently, but no more relaxed. He could sense every single touch of those careful cold fingers that were working with his shoes, holding his ankle in their insecure grasp. The fingers sent odd electricity trough Draco's spine. Draco cursed himself for reacting such bizarrely to this. _Damn it, he's only polishing my shoes, nothing more. Take a grip of yourself, Malfoy!_

Draco's eyes flew wider as he suddenly felt those soft fingers _smooth_ his ankle. Draco suspiciously sharpened his eyes. _What the fuck is this, now? _Yes, Harry Potter was really smoothing his ankle. _It feels not so bad, actually…_

Harry couldn't specify his own astonishment as he suddenly found himself caressing Malfoy's ankle. He gently massaged the skin right above the sock line while brushing the shoe. And what was even more astonishing, was that Malfoy didn't retreat and pull his leg away. Instead, he was keeping it very still, almost scared of what was happening. Soon, it relaxed under Harry's touches, but still Harry couldn't believe what he was currently doing. Smoothing the ankle of his bittersweet enemy, without him protesting!

"Why does it take so long, Potter?" an arctic inquiry came from the direction of Professor Snape's desk. "I'm sure Malfoy has other plans for the night than sitting here with you. And besides, you have four more pairs of boots to go."

"Damn right, Potter," Draco stated, obviously realizing the situation now himself. "You better hurry up."

It was one o'clock in the night when Harry returned to the Gryffindor tower, and fell directly in his bed. 

It was the first night in weeks that he saw no nightmares –he saw no dreams at all.

…TBC…


	6. Lavender and Dragon's Breath

**6. Lavender and Dragon's Breath**

Wednesdays were completely something else than Tuesdays for Harry Potter. The day started with Charms, with Slytherin. It continued with Herbology, with Slytherin. And, it ended with a nice double lesson of Potions, with nobody else than the Slytherins and Snape. 

"Get up, Harry, or you're gonna be late for breakfast," Ron jostled Harry, who was deeply snoring in his bed, all clothes still on. 

"I'm… not… going…" Harry's voice was muffled.

"Oh, yes you are! You must eat something! We must endure the whole day with Slytherins, you know!"

"Not… going…" Harry drew a pillow over his head.

"Yes you are!" Ron cried, tearing the pillow off. "Or did you mean you won't come down all day?"

"Yes… I stay here whole day…"

"Why?"

Harry yawned, pulling the blanket to cover his face. "I hate Snape… And I hate Malfoy… I don't want to see Malfoy…"

"That's not anything new," stated Ron. "You had your detention last night, I heard you coming back in the middle of the night. Now, I know Snape put you trough a hell lot, but you must stop acting like an idiot. You must come down. Don't show those Slytherin bastards your weak moments!"

Little did Ron know about Harry's weak moments. And that Harry really was an idiot, in his own opinion. Namely, last night just before shutting the door behind him, Draco had blazed his iciest scowl at Harry, and now Harry was afraid to face the boy again.

"You go, Ron…"

Ron made an extremely annoyed face and pushed Harry over the edge of the bed. Harry smashed on the floor. 

"You. Come. Now. Otherwise people start asking me questions, and I don't want to lie. I would have to say you didn't come because of Snape and Malfoy."

Massaging his aching head, Harry heaved himself up and grimaced. "Mmh, uh, okay, I'm coming… I'm coming alright…"

Draco was not at breakfast, which made it easier for the embarrassed Harry. Harry sat between Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, chatting sporadically with Ron and Hermione across the full-loaded table. He was quiet, but made a huge effort in trying to act as normally as possible. He drank several glasses of pumpkin juice, hoping it would have been butterbeer. 

"What do you think, Harry?"

It was Dean Thomas. Harry had not paid attention around just that moment, and was without any clue as to what Dean had been asking.

"Sorry, Dean, what was it you said?" he forced a weak smile.

"I asked if you think my new shirt is cool. I bought it from Hogsmeade a couple of weeks ago, thinking that maybe some chicks could like it." Dean winked at Hermione. Ron looked murderous.

Harry looked at Dean's new shirt. It was tight and camouflaged, revealing a fine row of abdominal muscles trough its thin canvas. _Oh, shit… _

"I, um, think it's very, eh… hot," Harry blushed, innocently wrapping the hems of his cloak more firmly around him.

However, Dean didn't seem to notice anything weird in Harry's countenance, and continued to rabbit on with Ron. Ron did not look very pleased with the matter and forcibly refused to start praising the hot chemise.

Harry felt miserable. _Why did that happen? Again! _He forced down a cheese toast, hoping his scarlet cheeks would soon return to their normal, bronze shade.

Charms. What a charming lesson. Charming was also Draco Malfoy that morning, wearing a tight sky-blue pullover and cobalt trousers under his Slytherin cloak. Many girls held their breaths, even Parvati from Gryffindor, as the refined teen found his seat on the far left end of Flitwick's classroom. Harry was sulking on the other end, turning his eyes quickly away from the object of so much admiration. He was happy to have Lavender sitting next to him.

"Good morning, Gryffindor and Slytherin," Professor Flitwick started. "I think we have practised the Disillusionment Charm enough, don't you agree, youngsters? Today we're going to start with a new subject. What would you say about some Talon-clipping? As some of you may already know, it is used for dragon care."

_This. Can. Not. Be. Happening. _Harry hit his forehead on the table, in an aching frustration, and got Lavender's worried eyes on him. _Why does everything have to have something to do with dragons, these days? I think I can take no more of this… Yesterday Dragon-flies and now Talon-clipping. Obviously the teachers have arranged a conspiracy against me! As if I had no other meaning for my life than to think about Draco Malfoy twenty four seven!_

"Harry, sweetie, are you alright?" Lavender asked, being proud of the privilege of calling Harry a 'sweetie' now.

"What? Um, yeah... Just felt a sudden... twist in my stomach. But it's all gone now." Harry tried to grin, but probably failed, because Lavender looked at him suspiciously trough her lashes for a long moment.

As Professor Flitwick began to teach, Harry sank in his own thoughts. He didn't much care to listen, since he'd already learned something about the Talon-clipping when preparing for the first mission of the Triwizard Tournament two years ago. Instead, his thoughts worked with the happenings of the previous night.  

_I am not gay, you know. I cannot be. I just felt like caressing Malfoy's fucking ankle, because I was so damn tired, and hoped that he'd leave immediately with his fucking loafers when I… Shit, he's breath-taking in those clothes. _

Harry was so angry with himself that he scraped his cheeks with his fingers so forcibly they left several red strikes on his already-burning skin. Then he picked up his quill and a piece of parchment, and began to draw. Professor Flitwick's words were all blur in his ears as he captured certain noble features of a certain noble bloke sitting far away from him.__

Harry looked at his handiwork proudly. Evilly pointed features, carefully combed hair, metallic eyes and the maliciously frowning mouth. _Almost perfect._ Harry picked up his quill once more, however this time not drawing with it. Instead, he started to pierce the picture with furious stabs, lancing the eyes, the cheeks, and the forehead… He continued until the quill eventually snapped in two halves. 

"Fuck!"

Suddenly, Harry became aware that the whole class was dead silent, Flitwick and every single student staring oddly at him. Every student except Malfoy.

"Mr. Potter, may I ask what you are doing?" asked Flitwick, some severe annoyance in his accent.

Harry covered the torn parchment with his palms and bit his lower lip. "Nothing special. I'm sorry, Professor." 

Next lessons were Herbology with Madame Sprout. Harry expected nothing good from them, since his day had already begun so wretchedly, but he arranged his stuff beside Ron all the same.

"What a wonderful sunny day it is, children!" Sprout puffed, when entering the steamy hot greenhouse. 

"Really wonderful," mumbled Harry ironically under his breath.

"We have a difficult mission today," continued Sprout, not hearing Harry's words. "Professor Snape has asked me to cultivate a new batch of Gillyweed, but since I'm so busy with the Bubotubors, I would like you sixth years to help me out."

Harry remembered well how awful Gillyweed was, and couldn't help smirking. He thought about Malfoy's expression as the snobbish boy would have to handle those slimy, grayish-green rat-tails. The thought made Harry somewhat happier, and he actually started paying attention to the teaching.

Potter had been right. Draco was nauseated. Even though the weeds were just small embryos, they still felt mucous beyond description and smelled like rotten fish. 

_I cannot believe Potter actually ate this shit, _Draco mused, holding a thermometer in a water bowl, where the weeds would soon be planted. _He's got guts, I must admit. _

Draco's eyes turned remote as the reflections of Potter polishing his shoes emerged once again in his mind. _Damn it, Potter was really weird yesterday! And today, he's been acting even more abnormally. That lad is becoming barking mad._ _Seems that he's got some unresolved issues with himself.__ Not that it would be anything strange, though, being what he is…_

Draco glanced at Potter, who was currently telling Weasley how Gillyweed tasted. _He really is kind of attractive. Although his hair is a nightmare, his glasses horrible and his clothes too shabby. Wonder why he doesn't dress properly? He's got money like trash, just like I do._

Malfoy smiled at the thought that they were both so very rich. He returned to his thermometer and decided that the water was warm enough for planting. Then something very weird dawned on him. _Of all the people between earth and heaven, did I just say Harry Potter is attractive?_

Malfoy was not shocked of the fact that he was considering a male student gorgeous and sexy. Oh no, he had heard and experienced so much freakier things in the Slytherin house that being homosexual was not anything spectacular for him. He had been kissing and shagging with several girls enough to know he enjoyed it. He had also been kissing with some boys, without thinking it revolting. He had never had sex with boys, though, but that was perhaps because he'd never been on the mood. And he had seen people do so much more. Seen Crabbe and Goyle both tamper with Millicent at the same time, seen Bole and Warrington having it wild together in the Quidditch changing rooms. Even Pansy and Tracey had had their own adventures a couple of weeks ago. Therefore, it really needed a lot more than just a one-time erection from Potter's side to make Draco traumatized.

Draco was not a decided gay, but he was not objecting to be such, either. He was not surprised to find out everybody wanted him when he had started the sixth year at Hogwarts, since he knew he was dazzling. No. The issue here and today was that he had started feeling some inexplicable lust towards Harry Potter, of all the people. The pride and joy of the mighty Gryffindor. And _that_ if anything was wicked.

Draco threw the Gillyweed sprouts dispassionately in the bowl and received a horrified look from Madame Sprout.

"Be careful with those, Mr. Malfoy! They are very demanding plants!"

Demanding. That was a good word. It described well Draco's nature. _I need to get this darn Potter issue solved. Think I should test him a little…_

The dinnertime arrived soon after Madame Sprout had forced each of the students to empty their pockets of Gillyweed. Evidently, the herb was not to be played with.

Harry was extremely hungry and left the greenhouse with haste. However, he was unfortunate enough to bump on Goyle when entering the entrance hall, and received a harsh push in his stomach in return. Then he heard a familiar, drawling voice coming from behind the gigantic back of the nearby-standing Crabbe.

"It was so hilarious," said the voice. "His hands were all covered in black polish, and he was literally murderous when I arrived. But, he behaved quite nicely after all, and look at my shoes now!"

Wild giggles from some Ravenclaw and Slytherin girls.

"Did you know he's dating Lavender Brown?" chirped Millicent, with sharp deride in her tone. "That posh, wannabe-veela air-head."

Harry felt something very nasty begin to grow inside him. 

"Now, does he really?" the drawling male voice continued, pure glee flickering in the words. "And all this time I thought he was secretly in love with that Weasel boy."

More untamed titters, and some harmonizing smirks from the boys. Harry did not want to stay and listen any longer, and hastened at the dinner table with Hermione and Ron. He didn't notice a couple of superbly animated and cheerful grey eyes following his steps.

Harry was raging inside. How could anybody consider Lavender Brown an air-head? His own girlfriend? Why hadn't he said anything vicious back at Millicent? Nevertheless, after a couple of minutes' fuming, Harry shrugged and decided it was not important anyway, since Lavender normally _was_ an air-head. 

Another subject shot Harry as an alternative. _Were the Slytherins truly thinking that he was in love with Ron? No, that had to be one of Malfoy's depraved jokes, again. _

Harry looked at Ron who was sitting opposite to him. _He's my best friend, for crying out loud! _Besides, there's nothing sexy about him. I mean, not for me._ Harry let his eyes wander from Ron's auburn hair to his freckled nose and widely smiling mouth. First buttons of Ron's short-sleeved shirt were open, and Harry could distinguish the not-so-fit body of his friend under the cotton fabric. _Not my type. ___No. _

"Look, Harry, I bought this for Halloween!" Ron said. He reached for his pocket and pulled out a sweatband, where the word 'Stallion' was clearly visible in shining red letters. "Isn't it great?"  

Harry was relieved. _I am not gay, and now I proved it! Ron definitely doesn't turn me on!_

"Heard you were having detention yesterday night, Harry," put in Ginny, flushing slightly. "Tell me, is it true that Snape put you crawl on the floor in front of him and Malfoy? You didn't do that, did you?"

"Yeah," said Neville, glancing up from his pudding. "And there's this other rumour that you as much as _invited_ Malfoy there."__

Harry looked outraged. "I did not invite him!"

"Hey, Harry!" said a dusky, flirting voice in his ear. It belonged to Cho Chang, Harry's long-time crush. "I heard Malfoy just telling his friends you gave him a good foot massage last night as your detention. Now, I just wondered, is that true?"

Harry couldn't help it anymore. He just couldn't help it. Malfoy had just said his last words.

He rose up, and turned to look towards the Slytherin table. Dozens of curious glances followed as he stepped over the long chair and onto the middle aisle. Then he walked straight towards the Ravenclaw table that was standing in between Gryffindor and Slytherin tables. He took rapid steps and ran on the table top, spilling many plates of food down on the floor with his boots. Standing there, where everybody could clearly see him, was not anyhow disturbing this time. Neither were the shocked gasps of the Ravenclaw fourth year students at his feet. He was storming.

Harry marched over the table and landed next to the Slytherin table. Then he ascended to stand on the Slytherin table as well, and walked right in front of the mildly surprised Draco Malfoy, kicking an ewer of pumpkin juice all over Etre and Bole. Harry took the blonde boy from the shoulders, lifting him up from his chair, and facing him in an inch distance.

"I hate you, Malfoy," Harry snarled at Draco, who looked now very annoyed.

"But of course you do, Potter," Malfoy answered, hissing.

"Meet me eight o'clock at the Q. pitch. Don't be late."

"I won't. Bring along your coffin."

"You bring yours."

All students around them were either taunted with astonishment or glowering the boys with indignation. Draco could feel Potter's hard angry breathes on his cheeks. Harry could smell a light scent of vanilla cigarette from Draco's lips. The moment seemed to be lost in time. Nobody moved, nobody said a thing. 

"Alright, Mr. Potter. That is enough." Minerva McGonagall, the head of Harry's house finally alleged, interrupting the silence. Harry didn't even glance at her direction, but kept on staring frantically at Malfoy.

Draco lifted his other eyebrow elegantly. "Mommy is asking you to behave nicely, little Harry," he teased. He could feel Harry's fingers tighten their grip around his biceps.

"At eight," whispered Harry, and let roughly go of Draco. He marched along the Slytherin table towards the doors of the Great Hall, spoiling at least thirty students' meal en passant. And he disappeared out of sight. This time, even Dumbledore's eyes were not twinkling at him.

Potion classes. What would the day have become without the Potion classes? Absolutely spoilt. Namely, Draco was having the time of his life. Snape had forced Potter to brew Magical Mess Remover Potion for Leather Loafers, just to fuck the Gryffindor pride over. Every now and then Draco jeered at Potter's direction and winked his eye at the dark-haired boy, almost dying with hilarity. 

"Wipe that sneer off your face, Malfoy," Ron threatened the Slytherin prince after half an hour of sniggering. "Or I will hammer your face to resemble a pancake!"

With this threat, Malfoy left Crabbe to work alone with their Polyjuice Potion, and walked at Ron's side. "Will you really?"

Ron looked a little puzzled. "Well, yeah."

"Just try it, Weasel," Draco said, deviously. His eyes met shortly Harry's infinite green irises. 

Poor Ron did not know where the whole thing was leading, and therefore began to roll up his sleeves. "This is your last chance to retreat, Malfoy," he said. "Leave Harry alone."

"Jealous?"

"What?" Ron was now totally clueless.

"Are you jealous of me?"

"You really are cracked, Malfoy. If I didn't know better –which I actually don't- I would say you walk around the school _hoping  people would smack you down to hospital condition."_

"There you are wrong," Malfoy nonchalantly leered, almost yawned. "Because, you couldn't get me in a hospital condition, even if you tried your best, Weasel."

Ron's face twisted in a vile grimace and he plunged his fist towards Malfoy. However, it never reached its aim.

"Harry? What the…?" Ron gasped. He had never been so perplexed in his life.

Harry had taken a steely grip of Ron's wrist in the mid-strike, now holding it firmly.

"Don't hit him, Ron," Harry faintly said. 

Malfoy leered.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Harry?" Ron's eyes were as wide as saucers. "Don't you fucking see it's Draco Malfoy?"

Harry looked around. The whole dungeon was following the little dispute with uttermost curiosity. What an eventful week this had been! 

"I mean… Don't hit him in the face. I want to see his expressions," Harry made a frantic smile.

"Oh, okay…" Ron uttered, still completely lost.

"Besides, I want him to be able to stand on his own, tonight. Remember, we have our little duel then," Harry whispered at Ron, before retreating back to his cauldron.

Draco looked half angrily and half disappointedly at Potter. But nevertheless, his calculations had been right. Potter had a crush on him. If it had been just the three of them, Ron would not have survived with so little confusion. 

Draco blocked Ron's blow artfully and returned to Crabbe. Neither him or Harry noticed the suspicious glare Professor Snape cast at them both.

Potter and Malfoy turned face en face and bowed, very slightly, without breaking the eye contact. Then they raised their wands in front of them, in the combative position. 

It was eight o'clock in the evening, and the sky was threateningly dark. The stars had just begun to twinkle and the air was blustery. 

_On the count of three,_ thought Harry, but was wise enough to start when it was two and a half, thus reacting to Malfoy's overhasty attack. 

"Confundus!" the both boys shouted. 

They had inadvertently chosen the same charm, which caused the effect that their spells cast backwards. They fell down on the moist grass, stupefied by their own incantations.

"Eh… Malfoy?" Harry straightened his eyeglasses. "What exactly are we doing here?"

"Uh… I don't know, Potter, but I just got mud under my fingernails, and I want to get inside, it's going to be a chilly night," replied Malfoy, smoothing his messy-gone hair. 

"Strange. I feel like hula-dancing next breakfast in the Great Hall –on the teachers' table," Harry stuck his lower lip out, in indignation. "What the hell would I do that for?"

"And I have this funny feeling I should go asking Professor Snape out for a date," Draco looked puzzled. "Although I think he'd be more than revolted."

The both boys were completely flabbergasted. However, from some distant part of his memory, Harry remembered directing Draco with a confundus, thinking about him hula-dancing at the same time. And as to Draco, he looked like as if he had remembered thinking about Snape just before waving his wand for the spell. 

"We were duelling," decided Harry. "But what for?"

"Does it need a reason to duel with you, Potter?" Draco asked, standing up with a grace only Malfoy could produce after such a blow of magic.

"My charm hit back. So did yours."

"Obviously," stated Draco, vexed. 

Silvery eyes met the sea green ones, very swiftly. 

"I can't remember why we are here," Draco said, very snappily. "And that bothers me."

"It bothers me, as well," replied Harry, looking even more cross than Malfoy.

"So… should we continue our fight, even though we don't remember what we were fighting for?" Draco asked, giving a neat, inviting wave of a hand.

"Certainly," Harry frowned, a predatory expression on his face, and cast a handful of mud at Draco's face. 

Draco plunged at Potter, and they both rolled on the wet grass mattress, hitting and kicking each other, wrestling, twisting arms and pulling each other's hair, until they were both damaged enough to pull apart. 

They were out of breath, and every inch of their bodies was hurting, except that they had not even made one severe injury to each other, let alone touched each other's faces. Potter was more than happy that Draco had saved his eyeglasses, and Malfoy was relieved he would still look beautiful at the Halloween party, not having a black eye.

"Guess we should visit Pomfrey," Harry sighed, from between his rapid breaths, holding his chest.

"Yeah," agreed Draco. He was tired with the whole duelling thing, and his robes were drenched. "Think we should."

…TBC…


	7. Hot Chocolate

**7. Hot Chocolate **

Madame Pomfrey's expression was purely beyond words when she opened the door to her private chambers that evening. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were standing behind it, almost tamely together. Harry was grinning somewhat apologetically, squeezing nervously his hands, and Malfoy looked tired and indifferent, almost annoyed. The Slytherin lifted both of his fine eyebrows as if to ask the nursemaid what the heck was wrong with the sight of them two.

"Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy." She let her eyes wander across the boys' muddy clothes and faces. Then she changed into her 'angry mother'–like tone. "Have you two been fighting? Again?"

Draco and Harry nodded as if it would have been a normal, every-night question.

"Well, get inside, get inside…" the nursemaid sighed, pushing the door of her chambers open. 

The room was small and warm, almost hot. Evidently it was Pomfrey's private living-room of some sort. A smug, violet magical fire was dancing happily in the grate, casting long shadows of the heavy furniture on the walls. The two windows were completely covered with heavy, dark plume drapes, and there were loads of cocoa-scenting incenses burning on the several, weighty tables. Many overstuffed couches and armchairs were making the room cosy and crammed, added to the dozens of huge pillows all over the area. Every facade had a violet or purple tone, with a tint of gold. Harry thought the style was rather oriental-esque, and highly non-Pomfreyish. Draco thought that Pomfrey hardly needed so many ugly couches, especially when she rarely had any guests.

"Yech," Draco silently shuddered, as Pomfrey turned her back on them. 

Harry gave him a warning glare.

"Now, young men, I need to get some medicines from the hospital ward if I plan to make either of you feel any less dreadful. Take your shoes and cloaks off and be comfortable, I will return in no time," Madame Pomfrey said and disappeared in the dark, stony hallway.

Harry and Draco were left alone in the heavily perfumed living area. An awful silence was raging between them; it was even more uncomfortable than their usual, hostile bantering. Harry went to sit on one of the armchairs, diagonally in front of the fireplace. He followed Draco absorbedly with his gaze. His heart was trying to break its way trough his chest plate, and he loathed that feeling.

"We got any good tequila?" asked Malfoy, finally breaking the silence. He airily strolled across the room towards some tables in the far-away corner. 

"No, I don't think so," Harry said, his voice being perhaps a little too tensed to his taste. "But I'm sure you can find a few bottles of alcohol-based disinfectants there, if you care." 

Malfoy rummaged trough a couple of chests of drawers but obviously wasn't happy with what he found. Thus, after finding a pair of pink frilly thongs that belonged to god-knows-whom, he decided to go and sit on a couch opposite to Harry's. Harry felt extremely prickly under the stare of those two cubes of ice that were Malfoy's eyes.

"You know, I am getting very worried about you, Potter," Draco started, his eyes however telling another story than his words. "Not that you wouldn't look as good and healthy as always, excluding your criminal jersey, but one thing worries me extremely. Do you know what it is?"

Harry didn't say anything.

"It's just that you have been acting very uncompromisingly lately. Almost out of the limits," Malfoy continued. "As if you had something inside of you that was pressing your mind. Something you could not define. And because that something obviously has something to do with me, I would very much like to know what it is."

Harry looked away, turning his eyes to the fire. The flames made a soft, lilac halo ballet on his shiny black hair. "You don't give a shit about anyone and no one gives a shit about you, Malfoy, so drop it," he murmured.

"That's only partly true," smiled Draco, a flash of biting wit in his expression. He rapidly took his wand forwards and pointed it at Harry. "_Ferratilis!_"

Instantly, tight magical handcuffs emerged from the armrests of the chair, wrapping themselves around Harry's wrists.

"What the fucking hell?" yelled Harry, trying to shake the firm cuffs away. "Malfoy, what are you doing?"

"Just a little self-protective measure. I don't want to have a black eye for Friday evening."

"Who cares if you have a black eye or not? Wouldn't make a headline. Now get these sodding chains off me."

Draco rose up and slowly walked in front of Harry. Then he knelt down and leaned heavily on Harry's knees with his elbows. Harry tensed uncontrollably under his touch. 

"My, my, Potter…" Draco's voice was all frozen honey. He reached out his hand and pushed some hairs out of Harry's forehead. Then he gingerly slid his finger along Harry's lightning-shaped scar. "Don't lie to yourself. You, for one, give a hell lot shit about me. I can see it in your eyes." 

Harry went so furious that he tried to attack Draco, once more that day, but the hand-cuffs prevented him, digging nastily in his skin when he tried to punch the insolent blonde. "I hate you, Malfoy! I just fucking hate you!"

"I know what you mean, Potter," Draco grinned. "I hate you too."

Madame Pomfrey's steps were echoing from the distance, which made Draco rise up. He looked at Potter calculatingly and saw that Harry was positively riled. Returning back to his own couch, he released Harry from the chains only just a second before Pomfrey entered the room.

"How nice to see you two getting finally along, even for one short moment," Pomfrey twittered, settling some disgusting-looking medicines on the table in front of the boys. 

Harry looked sombre and Draco dull.

"Here, Mr. Malfoy, drink this hot chocolate while I take care of Harry." 

Pomfrey gave Draco a large mug of something steaming and bubbling and brown. Draco took it after first suspiciously scenting it. 

"And Mr. Potter, take off your shirt so that I can properly see where you've got your injuries," Pomfrey commanded, promptly preparing her medical equipment for Harry.

Harry's mouth dropped open with disgust. "What? I am not going to take my shirt off! Not in front of _him!_"

Draco leered and took a sip from his chocolate.

"Don't be childish, Harry dear," Pomfrey scowled. "You are both boys, what on earth could be so awful about this? No, don't you even try to leave, or I'll personally hex you. I didn't bring all this medicine up here for nothing!"

Harry saw that the nursemaid was serious and ceased his steps that were already targeted towards the door. He surrendered. Flushing with irritation, he began to pull his sweater over his head.

Draco sat unworriedly in his chair, taking pleasurable swallows of his hot drink every once in a while. He was watching Harry James Potter undressing himself in front of his eyes. 

_Sweet mother of Venus… I am going to die. _

Harry's body was just as fit and perfect as Draco had imagined it would be. The tanned skin enhanced nicely Harry's delightfully muscular arms and satisfactorily stony stomach. Harry's whole appearance was shining softly blue-bronze in the violet firelight whereas his eyes blazed their own, suffocated green anger. 

_And here I thought that I was the best-looking guy at Hogwarts… _Draco hungrily stared at Harry. _Well, I guess even I can be wrong… Draco noticed that Harry firmly avoided his stare. __Pomfrey should definitely check if Potter's legs are okay as well, because I certainly didn't spare my kicks…_

"Please take off your trousers, Harry."

_Whoa, that's more like it… Good girl, Pomfrey… _

"I will most definitely _not_ take my trousers down!" Harry cried, appalled. 

_Aw, come on, Potter, don't be such a prick … _

"I insist, Mr. Potter."

_Good gracious how it's difficult for him!_

"Alright, alright… Just… hurry with it, okay? I don't feel like stripping in front of Malfoy just now."

_Yay, he's doing it!_

Draco eventually forgot to drink his chocolate. The only things he was interested in were Harry's sporty legs and the bottom that was more than worth looking at. He almost didn't hear when Madame Pomfrey addressed him ten minutes later and told him it was now his turn to lighten the clothing. 

Undressing wasn't at all difficult for Draco Malfoy because, unlike Harry, he knew that he looked gorgeous. And because he knew Harry thought him already gorgeous. He settled his high-quality shirt and trousers on the backrest of the sofa in a classy manner, making sure the clothes were not going to crumple. He enjoyed the warmness of the room since the Slytherin dungeons were often chilly and damp. Standing easily in front of the grate, he let Madame Pomfrey heal his bruises one by one. 

Harry was making huge efforts not to look at Draco. This obviously made Draco very amused, since he turned his eyes compliantly away, as if to ease Potter's situation. But, as much as Harry tried to prevent himself, he felt he _had_ to take a look at the beautiful sight in front of him. The milky-skinned Slytherin grace, so in his underwear only, was something too irresistible for the eyes. Silky, hoarfrost-white hair, with a slight tinge from the red-blue bonfire that was crackling in the grate, was half covering Draco's eyes. Long, black lashes, like draws of ink, cast spiky shadows down Draco's porcelain cheeks. 

_No human being can look like that, _Harry struggled for breath and almost dropped his chocolate mug. 

The lines of Draco's fine Quidditch muscles were soft but clear in the dusky lighting. The biceps tensed a little when Madame Pomfrey touched an especially sore bruise, and Harry felt like hypnotized.

_For the love of Morgan…__ I am going to die._

Harry did not try to conceal his esteem any more. He thought he was really going to die, his heart was beating so fast. But if he really was to meet the end of his days, at least it would be in a pleasant way. Surely, Draco Malfoy's stunning body outshined Voldemort's killing curse out-and-out. 

When Madame Pomfrey was finally finished with Draco, the Slytherin cast Harry a wide, chaffy smile, looking both boyishly handsome and unbearably sexy at the same time. Harry woke up from his trance and looked confusedly down at his chocolate, which was now undeniably cold. He wanted to cry. Draco had won the game, this time.

Madame Pomfrey did not see the odd chemistry between his patients, only forced them to take a couple of bogey-tasting pills and a glass of what looked like sewer water, which Draco eventually poured in a flower pot behind him in secret. Then Madame Pomfrey hurried them away from her chambers, wanting to spend the rest of the evening alone with her favourite book, Gilderoy Lockhart's Magical Me. 

"Bet you enjoyed watching me, didn't you, Potter," chuckled Malfoy, when the two of them were walking away from the hospital wing. 

Harry hated himself for the fact that Malfoy was right, but wasn't going to admit that. Therefore he tried to throw a similar, half sarcastic comment back at Draco.

"One superior trouble with you, Malfoy, is that you have an incredibly dirty mind."

Draco gave a laugh. "And that coming from you is the most priggish remark I've heard in my life! Remembering that _you were the one who first wasn't going to undress, fearing that I would think something sex-related when seeing your body half-naked."_

"Well, did you?" 

Harry tried to hide how much he dreaded the answer. Come to think of it, he didn't even know which of the two possible answers he would want to hear. If Draco said that he didn't, Harry would probably suffer from evil heartache many days. And if he said he did… Harry would still suffer from heartache many days.

Draco smiled playfully to him. "I did."

Harry stopped dead and gazed at Malfoy, who flashed his most brilliant smirk at him. Before Harry could say or do anything in reply, Draco strode down the stairs, shoulders shaking with suffocated laughter. 

Harry slowly returned to his own dormitory, trembling with mixed feelings of abhor and shocking happiness. 

_H__e is only toying with me… He is only toying with me… _

Harry stopped to look out of the window, to the starry night. Tears finally filled his radiant eyes. 

_I hate myself. I hate… I want to go down with that sodding sun and never see the silvery moon again… __Not the silvery moon again…_

…TBC…


	8. Invitation

**8. Invitation**

Divination. Draco felt he could 'swish and flick' all the over-pretty crystal balls out of the tower window, along with the tea-cups. Along with Trelawney.

"Mr. Malfoy, what do you see in this wonderful magical orb of crystal this morning?" Trelawney's distant voice inquired.

Draco looked acidic. He really didn't see anything but fog, but refused to forecast Trelawney a misty day, like Crabbe had done just about hundred times.

"I see there'll be a really hard choice I must make in the close future. And my choice will lead to one death, at least. Hopefully not my own."

Trelawney looked satisfied. "Ah, now that I come to think of it, I remember having such a sight myself, concerning you, Mr. Malfoy. Very good."

Draco smiled tiredly and was allowed to sink back into his own world. Sourly, he remembered the accident that had happened in the morning. He had asked Professor Snape out. Luckily it had passed as a lame joke.

Draco yawned, rather non-elegantly. His head ached of too little sleep, and he kept having these flashbacks from the previous night. _The wall is shattering… The wall between Potter and I. I can't believe it. I actually didn't dragoon him last night too much, which is very much not like me. What's wrong with me? Even now I think I could actually be in the same room with him, without fighting, without giving vicious comments. What is this strange peacefulness I feel towards him? Must be the effect of the Confundus Charm…_

Draco stared at his crystal ball again, trough half-closed eyelids. Suddenly, faint images began to emerge in front of his eyes. _What the…? _The grey eyes turned misty, like two smoky clouds, and Draco began to see. 

_There's my mother… and my Father… And my baby sister… What are they doing? Mom is screaming, and Father is… he is… trying to stab me. Trying to kill me. I am lying on the ground… Mother is trying to prevent Father… Father kills her first. Father is completely mad. I'm lying helplessly in front of him on the floor, covered in blood… no, not blood… but something indefinite. And my Father raises his blade… I am crying. What the hell? I never cry! This fucking globe must be broken! My Father yells at me… I have betrayed him… He wants to kill me… Who's that? Oh, the angels in heaven, I can't believe this. Where did Trelawney buy this crappy ball? There's Harry Potter… And he's protecting me… He… He kills my Father. And then he kneels down and twines his arms around me. And I'm not even mad at him that he's killed my Father… And… And… Then he… _

"Draco, are you alright?" 

Draco woke up from the stupor and blinked. It was Zabini. She gently squeezed Draco's hand.

"I'm okay." Malfoy's mouth was dry. "Why do you ask?"

"Just that you seemed to have a… eh… nightmare of some sort. Don't fall asleep here, babe. This room oozes with bad energy. Such as Trelawney's perfumes."

Draco nodded silently. He was out of all energy.

The morning was foggy, just like Crabbe's crystal ball forecasted. Harry and the other Gryffindor students were attending Care of Magical Creatures with Ravenclaws. The second lesson about Dragon Flies had just begun.

Harry was standing hand in hand with Lavender in front of the massive insects. Lavender was in a very good mood, and it was clear that the Dragon Flies were her speciality. However, Harry hardly felt impressed. His mind was flying away, leaving the bright blue eyes of his girlfriend talk to a mere ghost of himself. 

_The wall is shattering… The wall between Malfoy and I… He's seeing right trough me. He knows what I think about him. And what's more, I know what I think about him myself. Fuck, I am obsessed with him! And somehow I don't feel like killing myself for that, anymore. Must be the Confundus Charm…_

Harry was feeling odd. He had just admitted himself that he was feeling something else than hatred towards Malfoy. _I guess that makes me a little gay, then. Just a little. I am gay. I am gay. I am not! But I am. Shit… I'm rambling… _An image of shirtless Draco standing in front of the fire flooded in Harry's brains. _I hate his personality, but I love his body… I really love his body… if that makes me a bit gay, then I am. Just a little._

"Harry, why don't you answer to me? You've been oddly distant for several days now," Lavender cooed in Harry's ear, sounding half insulted.

"What? Oh, sorry… just… concentrated too much on those… flying… serpents. Yeah." 

Harry felt he could easily punch Lavender in the nose for interrupting his thoughts, but he was not a violent person, at least when it came to women. 

"Please ask me again, will you?" Harry did as much as smiled convincingly.

"I was asking what you are going to wear tomorrow evening," Lavender said.

"Tomorrow?" Harry blinked.

"Ah, you can't be that thick, Harry! The Halloween!"

The Halloween. Harry had all forgotten about it. The night when the younger students ran across the aisles yelling 'trick or treat'. The night when every elder student was either trying to get drunk or laid.

"I really don't know what I'm going to wear. Does it need any special attire, Lavender?"

"But of course!" the girl was gasping with amused shock, "The masquerade! You can't go there as 'Harry Potter', because Colin is doing that!"

Harry tried to suffocate a disgusted frown. "How can Colin be me? He's blonde and at least a head shorter."

"He'll be dying his hair and stuff. But let's not talk about him. Guess what I am going to wear?" Lavender made a coquettish smile.

_Probably she'll be a pink love pixie, of all I can guess. _Harry pretended to think hard. "Snow Queen?"

"No!" Lavender tittered. "Try again!"

Harry didn't want to prolong this idiotic discussion. "A love fairy?" he suggested. "That would really suit you."

Lavender's smile was wider than her face. "That's right! And Hermione will be…" she looked carefully around and then leaned to Harry's ear. "Don't tell this to Ron, but Hermione is going to be a cat woman. Isn't this exciting!"

Harry felt so repulsed he had to put all his energy in maintaining at least a bearable expression on his face. "Very exciting."

"I would be very happy if you dressed up as a prince –or a knight!" Lavender went on. 

Harry couldn't listen any more. _What a parade of clichés! Honestly, I can't believe she's sixteen! Fairies and knights! What else? Perhaps I should disguise myself as Lord Voldemort, if that would make her silent! _

The second lesson of the day was Herbology. Slytherin and Gryffindor students continued with the Gillyweeds. The air in the greenhouse was dribbling wet because of the fog outside and the humidity inside. For some students, the fact was very depressing. Hermione swore quite amazingly when her hair began to frizzle. Harry could not see well with his glasses. Ron didn't like that his shirt glued to his skin. Millicent and Pansy cried with messy mascara. And Malfoy was annoyed just in general, since he had no real reason to complain. He knew he looked fabulous, even when being soaking wet. 

For half an hour, Malfoy kept his eyes sternly away from Potter. He still had bad emotions about the mysterious sight he had had in Divination. The whole prediction felt as a bitter twist under his chest. Would his family really experience such horrible things in future? Even his little sister Hailie Anguis, not yet two years old? Would she end up being an orphan? Would Draco see in reality his father killing his mother? And what the hell was Harry Potter doing in the picture? Confusion and anger filled Malfoy's mind for a long time. Crabbe and Goyle's maddening jumbling with the Gillyweed didn't help him at all, and he soon found himself only staring into nothingness, doing nothing. 

"Draco, what's the problem? You want to taste?" Goyle guffawed. "Would be cool to spend an hour with your head in this pool of slimy water!"

Draco's expression was desperate with frustration. How thick could his friends possibly get during the years? Luckily, he then overheard Harry's discussion with Hermione and tried to cheer up a bit. 

"No, Harry! You can't put them there! Gillyweed is a very sensitive plant. You can't just ignore its needs. It is native to the Mediterranean. Therefore, go and fill this canister with salt water."

Draco followed with his eyes when Harry swayed dutifully towards the salt water well. For some idiotic reason, he decided to go and get a canister of brine, too.

"Letting a mud-blood girl to advice you… oh, the humiliation of it," Malfoy sighed teasingly in Harry's ear while joining Potter at the well, however carefully avoiding the eye contact.

"And having two dense, retarded lard-arses like Crabbe and Goyle to worship you… oh, the ridicule of it," Harry whispered back, likewise pretending not to notice him.

Draco came so close that Harry could smell his subtle scent of lime and pepper. "I didn't know you had the skill of describing people with such insulting adjectives, Potter."

"And I didn't know you recognized an insulting adjective when you heard one, Malfoy."

Malfoy actually gave Harry a real smile. "And I didn't know you could be clever if you wanted."

"I don't know… It really isn't that clever of me to waste my time with a schmuck like you. Ron awaits."

"Yeah, like an obedient dog for his master. Can't do anything without you, that Weasel boy."

"That's not true!" Harry was insulted for Ron's sake. "He's not dumb! He's very good at many things! And at least he can behave, unlike you."

"Yes, he can behave. Like an obedient dog."

Harry could not help smiling back at Draco. "You really never give up, do you?"

"No. I always win the arguments, in a way or another." Malfoy grinned tantalizingly and drifted away, to join his Slytherin friends again. 

Harry returned to Ron, carrying the brine canister. He was having at least a hundred little serpents curling in his stomach. _Did I just flirt with Malfoy? _Harry glanced towards the Slytherins. Draco was smiling oddly by himself. _I just fucking flirted with Malfoy! _

Trying to calm down, Harry began to help Lavender with peeling the slime off the Gillyweed sprouts.__

Malfoy and his fellow Slytherins were having a busy afternoon, preparing their own Halloween party in secret. Bole and Montague had succeeded in providing the dungeon room with alcohols, Etre and Warrington with every-flavour cigarettes. The girls had done a great job with the house-elves as to the snacks. Everything was nearly ready, but the invitations were not yet let out. 

"Remember, this is _not an open event." Draco was giving stern instructions. "Only if you have someone special you wish to invite, and if you think they will be enjoying the nature of this party, you should ask them. And the invitations cannot be public, either. Use these cards Mary-Ann has made for the purpose. They need to be addressed precisely to the receiver. And remember that no one is allowed to speak about this party outside these doors. _No one_." _

Malfoy was pretty sure that Dumbledore already had a feeling that something like this was happening, since the old goat always knew everything beforehand. However, Draco knew that the Headmaster would not lift a finger to prevent the party. Dumbledore was a man who wished not to interfere unless the occasion severely demanded it. 

No. Draco was more afraid of the other teachers, excluding Snape. And even more he was afraid of the possible flood of curious Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students. He really didn't want the number of the celebrators rise over thirty. From Slytherin, there would be less than twenty students. It would be unbearable if there were a greater number from other houses.

Draco left the dungeon room quietly, after taking one of the invitation cards Mary-Ann had placed on the corner table. He climbed the stairs up to the entrance hall. It was empty, if not counted Nearly-headless Nick who was chatting with one of the paintings. 

_I really think I shouldn't do this… I really should not invite him… But I want to. I need to._ Malfoy fidgeted the invitation card in his hand. _I feel like losing my touch anyway, so I guess I'll just… invite him. But I'll do it later. No more Potter for several hours. I have work to do._

Malfoy headed towards the library. He would need to find some extra information for his Defence Against the Dark Arts classes if he ever wished to defend anyone against the dark powers. He smiled a little when thinking that all he had ever learnt at home was pure dark magic itself. It was no wonder, therefore, that Draco was the best student of his class in DADA. But Draco's mind was not lingering on that subject very long. As a menacing, dark cloud, Harry Potter intruded into his mind again. 

_I must be mad… I can't ask Potter there, my friends'd lynch him in no time! No, I can't ask him. And even if I did, I am sure he wouldn't come. He hates me. _This thought seemed to annoy Malfoy, for some strange reason. _Yes, Potter as much as said last night that he hates me._

Draco sighed, which was very non-typical of him. __

When arriving at the library Malfoy yawned, this time very elegantly if compared with the yawn during Trelawney's classes. Madam Irma Pince, the bat-faced librarian, scowled at him sinisterly. Draco ignored her and settled himself at a table between two heavy shelves, as far away from the ugly, bun-headed hag as possible. _Alright… enough of Potter. I really need to concentrate on this runic symbol magic…_

Harry Potter spent his afternoon with Lavender, Parvati, Ron and Hermione, having the most mind-numbing time in his life. The girls' discussion about the masked ball wasn't exactly stimulating, and he was also tired of playing chess with Ron. 

"Do you guys mind if I go and take a little nap?" he asked, hiding well his uninterested expression. "I saw that nightmare again and could use some extra hours of sleep."

"Oh, of course. Go by all means," Hermione said, her voice being worried. 

Lavender joined with her opinion, flinging her arms gently around Harry's neck and giving him a peck on the nose. Harry rushed out of the common room, leaping the stairs two steps at a time towards the dormitory. 

"As if I would go to sleep!" he mumbled.

Hastily, Harry locked the dormitory's door and began to rummage trough his trunk. The Marauder's map was easily found. 

"Where are you, my vicious little nightmare…?"

Harry anxiously scanned the parchment trough. There, in the library. Draco Malfoy.

"Practising your over-intelligent brains still further?" Harry grinned at the ink spot. "I would not have expected any less from you."

Harry's mouth curled into a severe glower. _Did I just admire Malfoy for any other reason than his gorgeous body? I can't allow myself that. I can't fall for him too deeply. I'll just get myself hurt. He would never love me. He doesn't even like me, honestly. _

The spot on the parchment did not move. Harry stared at it, immovable as well. _Wonder what he's thinking about right now… Something else than me, that's for sure. Harry's heart was aching, just like he had assumed the previous night. Dreamily, he goggled at the ink spot. _What I would give to see him right now… Just for a little moment. I would just like to watch him, whatever he's doing, then. Just watch him…__

Harry straightened up from his bed. He wiped the Marauder's Map clean and silently slid out of the room. He went across the common area towards the portrait of the Fat Lady, without really thinking what he was about to do. 

"Didn't get any sleep, darling?" Lavender asked when seeing her boyfriend back down so soon. 

"I just remembered that I have to go to the library."

"Then why don't you take me with you?" Lavender could not make anything out of Harry's peculiar behaviour. She continued with an angelic smile, "I'd love to spend some private time with you."

"Uh, I just… I need to go alone, okay? I'm, eh, preparing for the masquerade, and would like to surprise you," Harry spluttered, with a hard effort not to vomit.

"Aw, you're so sweet, Harry!" Lavender's eyes sparkled.

"Yeah, sure… Um, see you later, then." 

Harry fled out. He targeted his half-running steps firmly towards the library. _A good one, that excuse, he smiled. _In case Malfoy asks me what I'm doing around, it works there, too.__

The library was nearly empty. Draco had been sitting alone for half an hour, studying intensively. Suddenly, he heard a ruffle of canvas and lifted his eyes from the book. He paled slightly. 

Harry Potter was standing at a little distance in front of him, staring straight in his eyes. His gaze was not hostile, if not friendly either. It was more like obsessed. Burning. 

Harry moved away very soon, disappearing behind the long shelves at the right.

_What the hell was that about? _Draco pressed his eyebrows together. _That Potter boy really is raving mad. Perhaps I shouldn't invite him, after all._

Draco thought again, and reached for the card in his pocket. _Oh, what the hell…_

Harry was feeling a lump in his throat. He accused himself for the fact that he had wanted to see Draco so badly. It had only made him feel more frustrated, more obsessed with the one person on earth whose love he could never win. Angry with himself, he began to eye the row of books, finally grasping one called 'Most Ensnaring Costumes' by Lockhart, the latest production. 

"What is that book?" came a half-arrogant, drawling inquire behind Harry's shoulder.

Harry flinched and turned around. Malfoy was standing there, quite close to him. Harry felt his hands began to shake.

"Ah… It's… Nothing. Just that I'm not sure what costume I should wear at the masquerade tomorrow. Lavender wants me to be a knight…"

Malfoy looked at him oddly.

Harry flushed. "I mean, I don't even know if I want to go there. Sounds really ridiculous, the whole gathering. But Lavender…"

"Forget about Lavender," Draco interrupted, almost heatedly. He observed Harry with fixed eyes. It made Harry feel like a drunken sailor in a stormy sea. 

"Forget…?" Harry asked, losing his voice.

"Yes. You are not going to that fancy dress party, Potter."

Harry found it difficult to breathe. Five more inches and he would be able to smell that vanilla cigarette again. 

"I… I'm not going?" 

Potter's gemstone eyes stupefied Draco, once again. However, because he was a Malfoy, nothing showed out in his expression. Not even his voice failed him. It continued to be clear and commanding. 

"No, you definitely are not going. You need to sort a couple of things out to yourself, Potter. Perhaps you find your answers here." 

Swiftly, Draco took something from the chest pocket of his cloak. It was a small, green card. He put it in Harry's trembling left hand. 

"You can still be the knight, if you wish," Draco's eyes twinkled. 

And then he was gone back to his homework, as quickly and soundlessly as a ghost. 

Harry gingerly slid his thumb along the sharp edge of the card. There was no text visible. _What is this supposed to mean, now? _Harry flipped the card over, and still found no text. _I think I need to sit down. I just don't feel very strong._

Harry climbed to sit on the stony windowsill. He breathed deep, and then returned to examine the card again. _Wonder if it's written in invisible ink? _Harry took his wand and pointed it at the card.

"_Aparecium!_"

Slowly, neat silvery letters began to emerge on the green parchment. 

_What is your name?_

Harry arched his brows in amazement. He was not sure if he should answer the card by writing his name down, or just by speaking out loud.

"Harrry Potter," he whispered. 

More text emerged. _Can you prove it?_

Harry was confused. Why should he prove it? This was only some stupid card! And how could he prove it, in the first place? Ridiculous. However, something made Harry touch his scar and show it to the invisible eyes of the card.__

Follow the green candles, Friday night at eleven. Password: Original Sin. Dress code: something sexy. Code of conduct: keep your fucking mouth shut.

"The green candles?" Harry asked. But the card told him nothing more. The silvery ink disappeared, giving the full space back to the evergreen colour of Slytherin.

Carefully, Harry put the card in his pocket. A bemused smile was lingering on his lips. _This was an invitation. But where? _Harry picked up Lockhart's book and shoved it back to the shelf. _What are you playing with me, Malfoy?_

…TBC…

A/N: The cliché about the masquerade is intentional. I hate masquerade balls, they are so used. I just needed to put it here to contrast the other party at hand. 

A/N II: If somebody wondered what on earth am I mentioning Draco's little sister Hailie Anguis (my own invention, sorry), then be patient. She's not in a major role, but still has an effect on Harry and Draco's life, in future.


	9. Original Sin

A/N: Okay, this is a REALLY long chapter... Try to bear with me… ;-)

A/N II: Dedicated to my wonderful friend Justin Etre.

9. Original Sin

Halloween day flew by like a gust of wind. The last lessons of the day were cancelled for everybody, except the third year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, who despondently had to bear with Snape.

The school was full of all imaginary Halloween decorations, including the traditional, illuminated pumpkin heads floating over the heads of the students in the Great Hall. The atmosphere was excited all day, and the children were allowed to do many kind of funny tricks to each other, allowed to laugh and racket freely. The teachers were enduring it admirably, occasionally even taking part. If not counted Argus Filch, of course.

Headmaster Dumbledore literally beamed with content as he saw so many happy faces around. And he was also happy to see his pet, Harry Potter, looking somewhat better than during the past few days. Still, the Headmaster could sense there was something serious bothering Harry's mind. He wanted to know what it was, but would wait. He would not spoil Harry's Halloween with uncomfortable questions.

Outside, the sky was as silky as Draco Malfoy's sheets. After dinnertime, many of the students went to spend the day outdoors, wandering along the lakeside and avoiding the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid was very glad to find Harry, Ron, Hermione and Lavender standing behind his door that afternoon, carrying loads of bonbons. He invited the teenagers inside, offering them tea and some muffins, however allowed to serve just the tea.

"This is an exiting day, ain't it, kids?" Rubeus winked his eye, sitting down in his huge chair that was made for half-giants. "You lot gettin' a masked ball, from what I hear!"

"Yes, we are!" cried Lavender in enthusiasm. "I'm so thrilled!"

"Bet we all should be thrilled, having the non-official permission to try and get drunk with some miserable butterbeer," Harry stated, making his friends look at him in confusion. However, he smiled as brightly as before, and at least Ron decided to take his comment as a joke.

"Um, well, yeah. They serve us butterbeer, alright. But only the students in their fourth year or above can have it freely," he said, scratching his head lazily. "But I'm sure, if Fred and George didn't bullshit me, we should start feeling giddy after about six pints of it."

"Ron, how can you even plan to get drunk?" Hermione glowered at him warningly. "If you furthermore wish that I will come there as your date, you really should think the matter over."

"Aw, come on, Herm!" Ron's face fell with annoyance.

Harry smirked. "Bet Hermione will be as drunk as any of us before the clock strikes twelve."

"I most certainly won't be!" Hermione gasped, and threw a hard muffin at Harry. She missed, of course.

The hours drifted by. Around six o'clock in the afternoon, many students complained that their stomachs were hurting with all the candy they had eaten. Around seven, the girls began to retreat to their dormitories, in order to prepare themselves for the ball. The elder boys stayed in the public areas for another hour still, chatting with each other about the evening, comparing their chances to get laid or relevant. They younger boys, instead, were pacing back and forth in the common areas of their houses, looking very nervous about going out with girls.

Harry Potter was resting in his bed, staring at the carvings on his bedposts. They were mighty Gryffindor lions, fighting with snakes and dragons. He was feeling as nervous as Ron, who was suddenly making a big noise about his freckles. But Harry wasn't nervous because of Lavender, or because of the masquerade. He was nervous because of a certain green card under his pillow.

Mmh, the invitation says eleven p.m. Fuck! Two hours of that dratted dress party, before… yes, before what? Where am I exactly planning to go? And the dress code said something sexy. I haven't got anything sexy! What do I need to be sexy for? Who do I need to be sexy for? Harry smiled inwardly when thinking about Draco.

"Hey, Harry! Haven't you got anything to put on?" asked Neville Longbottom, trying to cram himself into a horrible, pea green costume that was supposed to resemble a fir tree.

Oh, the absurdity of this all! Harry heaved a fed-up sigh. "No, Neville, I haven't got a Prince Charming suit, if that's what you meant."

Harry remembered how Draco's grey eyes had followed his every movement at dinner earlier the day. Malfoy thinks I'm the Prince Charming without the dress, anyway, so why bother to get one? Harry grinned.

But oh, right after this self-confident thought, Harry's heart made a plunge, and he felt very vulnerable and insecure again. What if he doesn't think I'm good-looking? I must remember he's a Slytherin. A Malfoy, of all the Slytherins! He's only playing games with me. He's dangerous. He's fucking made to kill me one beautiful day! I can't trust anything he says. I shouldn't take his words too seriously. Harry looked disturbed. I shouldn't take his invitation too seriously, either. Perhaps I should not go at all.

"Lavender will be very disappointed that you haven't got a costume," noted Seamus, looking at Harry in a cunning way. "You really don't seem to respect her very much, Harry. Why did you start dating her in the first place, if you don't mind me asking? It's obvious that you're not smitten with her. Not that it's any of my business, but I'd still like to know."

There was a short moment during which Harry tried to find the right words. I started to date her because I wanted to proof Malfoy and myself that I wasn't gay, which I think I eventually am, and because Lavender happens to remind a hell lot of Draco, with her radiant white hair and pale skin.

"I think she's beautiful," answered Harry. It was the most honest thing he could say. "But later on, I've found her a bit, well, childish."

"Childish!" cried Dean and gave a laugh. "Don't you think that you might be too mature, Harry? I mean, you are somewhat adult for your age, since you've been forced to experience such horrible things in your life. So, maybe it's just you, Harry, and not Lavender."

Harry admitted that Dean could be right, however sternly keeping his eyes away of Dean's bottom, now covered with sporty breeches.

"Alright, fellas, you win. Maybe I really should do something to my outer appearance," Harry said, rising from the bed.

Ron nodded in agreement. "What do you have in mind?"

Harry smiled shrewdly. "Oh, just something sexy…"

Draco Malfoy had been uncommonly snappy the whole day. His friends were afraid of him, since he happened to be the most influential dark wizard of their house, and avoided him as much as possible. Draco stormed about every little inconvenience, and at least twice every hour he made the girls check if the party dungeon was ready.

Draco himself didn't notice that something was strange in his behaviour. He had never in his life been nervous before, and therefore he couldn't recognise the feeling. He just kept on comparing every garment in his wardrobe, snorting derisively most of the time. For an outsider, this would've looked very much incomprehensible, since Draco's every shirt and trouser were the top quality, without a trace of shabbiness. But as said, Draco was snappish, and nothing felt good now for him today.

As the hours went by, Draco eventually calmed down a bit. He concentrated on sitting still on his bed, staring his own reflection in the opposite mirror.

"Don't look so resentful, Draco darling," the mirror said. "You are strikingly beautiful."

"Shut up. I'm trying to fall in coma."

"What for, dear? You're fabulous, you're talented, and you've got all the qualities the other boys envy."

"You're being partial," Draco snapped, looking at the mirror murderously. "Besides, Potter doesn't envy me."

"Does he not, now? Well. I haven't seen this Potter boy, so I really can't understand why he wouldn't envy you. But darling, why don't you ask him? If the matter bothers you so much that you need to wear that grimacing face, you really should ask him how he feels about you."

"Oh, Merlin! I thought I'd seen it all but now I know I have, a fucking mirror therapist fucking hell…" he snarled and ran fingers trough his supple blonde hair. It looked nearly transparent now, in the light of the setting sun. "That Potter drives me mad…"

Harry stood in front of a full-length mirror in the bathroom, only a pair of boxers on. He was desperately wondering what to conjure up for the evening. He hadn't really ever conjured up clothes before, since it wasn't usually necessary, but now he really didn't feel like wearing Dudley's old trousers.

Something sexy… but something simple, as well. I don't want to walk around gathering weird glances. And also something that could fit in the masquerade. Honestly, an impossible combination…

Harry decided to start from the 'simple' part. He swung his wand for the magic, and soon a tight, gem green chemise wrapped around his upper body. Not bad. Emphasizes the colour of my eyes.

The eyes. Harry leaned closer to the mirror and looked in his eyes, after a long time. They weren't scary anymore, were not doubtful. On the contrary, they were excited, gleaming emeralds. He took off his glasses and repaired his eyesight by a neat swish of wand. That's better. Now I actually look handsome, even in my own opinion. No glasses tonight.

The next clothes he conjured up were black dragon hide trousers, and boots of the same material. He put them on, evaluating his own reflection again. Simple and sexy. Yet not fitting in the costume party, exactly.

Harry jumped as he heard the door slam open, hitting against the wall with force. Ron dashed in with Seamus and Dean, laughing rowdily.

"You ready, Harry? The girls are waiting."

Harry turned around to face his friends. Honestly…

Ron was wearing his oh-so-hot 'Stallion' sweatband again, in addition to the bright red sports trousers and a T-shirt with a picture of a horse. Obviously he was supposed to look like a personal trainer. Harry coughed down a laugh and looked at Dean Thomas. Dean had also chosen a sporty line, although he was much more better looking than poor Ronald, apparently playing a commando soldier.

"What's this sudden sporty breeze?" Harry asked, grinning.

"I asked the same," smiled Seamus, wearing a costume of an elf, with pointed ears and all.

Ron and Dean only laughed and began to pull Harry towards the common room.

"Come on! The party starts in fifteen minutes!"

The party started, all right. Harry was sitting in the far end of the Gryffindor table that was now standing next to the wall. The middle floor was cleared for the dancers. And what kind of dancers! Harry couldn't believe how many different, laughable costumes he saw with only one glance.

"You look so handsome, Harry, without your glasses," Lavender giggled, spreading dreamily her pink wings of a love fairy. "But I really can't tell what role you're trying to play."

Hermione came to sit next to them, asking Harry the same question. She was quite stunning in her cat suit, although Harry was more like reminded of the one miserable adventure with Polyjuice potion and Millicent Bulstrode's pet.

"Really, Harry, tell us what the dragon hide is for!" Lavender pleaded.

"Well…" Harry tried to think of something. Then he began to smile. "I think it's quite obvious, Lavender. I'm a Dragon Tamer. Just that I haven't found my dragon, yet."

The clock didn't seem to go forwards quickly enough for Harry. He thought his brains were exploding with all the silly costumes and idiotic jokes around, and the table bending with butterbeer wasn't cheering him up, either. He had already drunk eight pints, without remarkable results, and was seriously considering pouring his ninth one down Neville's collar.

Hermione and Ron were snogging wildly under the table, kissing each other senseless. Harry had been right when saying that Hermione would be drunk before midnight. She was, and roughly at that.

Lavender was the only person in the room who wasn't feeling very content. She would've liked to dance all the evening and toss the hems of her pretty dress around, but Harry was being an ass, sitting at the table with his pints, immovable.

"Go and dance with Seamus or Dean, Lavender," Harry mumbled at her, when she came to nag at him the fiftieth time. "I won't mind. I'm feeling a bit ill, so you can freely go around and dance with the others."

Lavender's eyes got a worried gleam, which Harry detested immediately.

"Honestly, it's nothing serious, Lavender. I'll be myself tomorrow again. Go and have fun, don't think about me. I will be just fine."

Lavender hugged Harry gently and left, however whispering that Harry shouldn't feel worried, she would be a good girl all the evening.

Harry couldn't have cared less.

Finally the clock said eleven. Harry sneaked out of the Great Hall, trying not to draw attention. He succeeded well, because during the last thirty minutes, the snogging and flirting had reached an entirely new level.

The green candles… Harry looked around when he arrived at the empty Entrance Hall. All the candles here are orange and gold… No green… Harry took the card in his hand again. Green. Slytherin green. Slytherin. Harry guided his steps towards the Slytherin dungeons.

Once down the broad staircase, Harry noticed a fine row of candles stretching along the wall of a narrow aisle at his left. The candles were green, shining with silvery flames. This must be it… This must be the right place…

The aisle was long and extremely cold. The only sounds around came from his black boots, echoing against the hard stone floor. The candles formed eerie shadows of Harry's figure, and Harry got scared by his own silhouette more than once. Maybe it was the butterbeer, maybe not, but Harry felt very unreal. He sighed with relief when he reached the end of the gangway.

There was a beautiful painting waiting for him, a painting of a Banshee woman. She looked both scary and alluring, night black hair flowing like mist around her, flooding down her shoulders, covering the bare breasts. Her skin had a grey tinge, and her eyes were red like after crying.

"Passssword," she whispered.

Harry imagined what would happen if somebody tried past that door without knowing the right password. Would the painted woman begin the ear-splitting crying, which was typical of the real Banshees? Harry didn't want to find out himself.

"Original Sin."

The painting smiled and then flung aside.

Harry entered a large, warm dungeon room that was bathing in shadows. Weird music was coming from somewhere Harry could not find out, being a strange mixture of rhythm and blues, metal and rap. Green-flamed torches were standing on the walls, giving a soft light over the overwhelming view beneath. Harry gasped with disbelief.

About twenty-five students were partying in front of his eyes, apparently very drunk. Harry understood that all the elder Slytherins that had been missing from the masquerade were here, accompanied also by some Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students Harry well recognised. None of them had cloaks on, oh no. They were more like wearing nothing than something, at least the girls. An intense strip-tease show was going on in one corner of the room, and there were at least three couples very intimately associating together on the overstuffed divans close to the huge grate. Harry decided to stay firmly in the shadows. He was too stunned to join the lot right now. How can something like this be happening? Won't Dumbledore stop this? This is… This is very… Harry tried to think about words like 'horrible' and 'disgusting', but eventually ended up with word interesting. Weird keenness in his heart, he scanned the room trough.

Malfoy was sitting in a sinking, black leather armchair in the middle of the cellar room, looking like a furious guardian angel. His bright hair and skin were making a perfect contrast to his dark background, and he obviously knew he was looking good, but still it seemed that he wasn't entirely satisfied with his situation, taken for his annoyed expression. He was enjoying a bubbling, steamy, blood-red drink, which Harry thought was very rich with alcohol. A couple of coquettish girls were sitting on both side of him, the other one smoothing his chest from where the first buttons of the fine shirt were open.

Harry stayed in the shadows like a spy, watching the odd play in front of his eyes. His hands were trembling so much that he would have been a general topic of heavy laughter if he would've joined the party. Party? What party? This is more like an orgy!

"Etre!" Wayne Hopkins from Hufflepuff waved a hand to somebody in the other end of the room. "Justin, come here, will you?"

Harry saw a tall boy with raven hair rise from the pillows of a couch. He was wearing dark green dragon hide trousers and a tight, pewter-silver T-shirt. His body was extremely well built, his muscles making Harry's eyes enlarge, and he had a row of the most perfect, pearly teeth Harry had ever seen.

He's in Slytherin, Harry remembered. He's in his last year. Wonder why I haven't seen him play Quidditch, because with that body… Oh, fuck! Harry thwacked himself in the head and instinctively reached for his cloak, which wasn't now there. Don't think about him that way, Harry, you fucking idiot!

Potter returned his eyes cautiously back to the boy. In his final opinion, Etre reminded a little of the young, handsome Tom Riddle with his pale chin and high cheekbones, and with nearly black grey eyes. Harry shivered.

"Dear Justin," said Justin Finch-Fletchley to Etre, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezing it. "There is someone in this chamber at the moment who would like to challenge you to play The Dementor's Kiss. What do you say?"

Harry had no idea what kind of a game was The Dementor's Kiss. But, by the sound of it, it wasn't anything promising. However, he saw Etre grinning and accepting the challenge, even though slightly nervously.

The gang of Slytherin girls went and made Etre lie down on a soft mattress, tying his eyes with a black silky linen and his wrists with magical chains. What is it with the Slytherins and chains, Harry wondered, remembering his little episode with Malfoy two nights ago.

Finch-Fletchley, Montague, Hopkins and Boot, along with many others, gathered around the lot, settling so that Etre was in the middle of the circle the girls and boys formed. Harry gave a quick glance at Malfoy to see if he was also going to be there, but Malfoy merely looked bored and bothered, lightning up a cigarette. White ringlets of smoke rose upwards, camouflaging themselves in Draco's snowy hair. He invited me here. I wonder if he's afraid I won't show up? Harry smiled. Wish he was!

The game started on the mattress with Justin. Harry watched as each of the players went to lie on top of the boy in turn, kissing him hard or gently, then placing something between his lips, and finally asking a question. Harry couldn't hear the words because of the music, and neither could he guess them. But as eight or nine girls and boys had done it, Etre was looking more and more nervous.

Harry looked at Draco again. Obviously Malfoy was having now a good time with Lisa Turpin and Su Li from Ravenclaw. Or, more specifically, the girls were enthralled with Malfoy, and he was just taking pleasure in the attention. A slight scratch of jealously wounded Harry's fast beating heart.

Harry shifted his eyes rapidly back to the game. Apparently, it was now Montague's turn to kiss Etre. The foreign-looking male went rather determinedly to sit on Etre's stomach. He kissed him roughly. Montague's looking like he could swallow the guy, Harry mused, staring the scenario excitedly. Then it was time for the something that was placed in Etre's mouth. Then it was the time of the question. And then it would be over.

Only this time, it wasn't.

Etre's hands were suddenly released and both he and Montague twined into another greedy kiss, rolling on top of each other on the mattress. The audience cheered and clapped their hands, gradually rising up and leaving the pair alone.

What the hell did Montague ask him? Harry looked at the two boys in awe. I didn't know they were, well, gays. Or did they just figure it out themselves?

Montague seemed to be in heaven. Harry watched as he slid his hands round Etre's waist and pulled the shirt upwards. Harry immediately noticed a streamlined, dark green serpent tattoo that was peering out of Etre's pants, moving threateningly like a Sidewinder. It had bright silvery eyes, like freshly cut strontium.

I've never seen a magical tattoo like that. It's… It's hypnotising.

Harry's eyes locked with Etre's little snake. It wants me to go there… Yes… It wants me to go there…

Potter stepped out of the shadows. He didn't need to wait the consequences very long.

"Hey, it's Harry Potter!" shrieked Millicent Bulstrode, piercingly. "What the fuck is he doing here?"

The music stopped, the voices silenced. People stopped their chatting and snogging. And Harry felt the ground disappear from under his feet.

Only now Harry realised that there were no students from Gryffindor besides himself around. Something very heavy dropped down in his stomach, and he found it hard to swallow. All the colour disappeared from his cheeks, only to return back very scarlet later. The dungeon was as silent as a tomb, and everybody were staring at him, horrified or angrily.

"Calm down, Millicent," a drawling voice finally ruined the stillness. Of course, it belonged to Draco Malfoy. "Potter is here as my guest, tonight."

Harry had never in his life seen such amazed expressions. If he would not have been so panic-stricken, he could easily have laughed.

Malfoy graciously rose from his sinkable leather chair, stretching himself to his full height. The buttons of his shirt were now completely open, revealing his noteworthy abdominal strength. His hair was sexily ruffled, which was not typical of him at all, and which made him look purely eatable. Harry gaped at him with dilated pupils.

"Potter, get your ass down here, will you?" Draco said casually, taking a sip from his drink that was now black and popping.

Harry's feet carried him forwards, as if he had no own will at all. He was standing right in front of Malfoy before he had the time to put a stop to himself. Malfoy flashed Harry a polite grin.

"So, you decided to come, then." Draco made a gesture that Harry should sit down.

Warrington and Li made space for Harry, and soon he was sitting between Finch-Fletchley and Tracey Davis. A bright glass of something green, steamy and translucent was put in his hand, and a cigarette shoved between his lips. Harry meant to spit the tobacco out at first, but then thought again and accepted. What the hell, he was all alone, in the middle of a Slytherin dungeon, surrounded by half-dressed Slytherins and some fanatical sex-maniacs from other houses. He really could use a cigarette. And a drink.

To his relief, the music started again, alleviating the atmosphere a little. Everybody sat back down or returned to their other businesses. Harry met Draco's eyes and leaned back in his sofa. Fervidly, he raised the drink to his lips and took a long dram.

"Gaaah!" he gasped for breath. "Malfoy, what the hell did you put in this drink? Battery acid?"

"What's battery?" Malfoy asked, arching his eyebrow.

"Never you mind…" Harry coughed the drink down. "This is pretty strong, that's what I meant."

"Warrington likes to put some Hebridean Black Dragon blood in his mixtures, so what can I tell?" Draco laughed.

Harry just loved to hear that laughter. Genuine laughter, without the trace of sneer. He absorbed Malfoy with his eyes. He was sure that everybody noticed that, but for some reason, perhaps because of the booze and music, he was not very bothered. Malfoy was breath-stealing. That was a fact, and nothing new. Everybody had a thing about him. Harry Potter had a thing about him. So, what was the big deal?

"You know, Potter, you really look good without your glasses," Malfoy smiled. "I'm glad you took the dress code seriously. Just look around and see how these chicks drool after you."

Harry gingerly glanced about. Malfoy was right. Every girl in the dungeon was goggling at him, tongues nearly lolling out of their mouths. Harry flushed and looked firmly at his drink.

"See, I was right." Malfoy waved his hand and somebody topped up Harry's drink with the strong alcohol. Harry was feeling very light-headed, and the coffee flavoured cigarette between his lips tasted particularly good.

"Now, the big question is, do you consider any of them attractive," Draco continued. He again snapped his fingers, and three beautiful girls came in front of Harry, wearing very revealing outfits. In addition, Tracey Davis, who was sitting next to him, slid her arms around Harry's hips and purred seductively in his ear.

Harry looked surprised, however not disgusted. He really had never seen lightly dressed girls before, and found the sight very appealing. Especially Mary-Ann Greengrass was to his taste, being extremely pretty for a Slytherin girl.

"I think I find them very attractive," Harry smiled at Draco.

"More attractive than you find me?" was the reply.

Harry froze with shock. The question had come like a punch straight to his nose. He put his cigarette hastily away, and finished his drink with one draft.

"Why do you want to know?" he muttered.

Obviously Draco didn't need more confirmation. Unidentified hands forced Harry out of his sofa and pushed him towards Malfoy's chair. Harry slightly opposed, which made him lose his balance. Hurriedly, he took support from the armrests of the chair, throwing his arms on both side of Malfoy.

"Gees, Potter! You're not drunk, are you?" Malfoy leered.

Harry felt very awkward. His face was now at the same level with Malfoy, only a couple of inches space between their noses. Harry felt his feet getting weaker. He wanted to stay where he was, crazily close to his daydream, but he thought he saw a glimpse of disgust in Malfoy's eyes. Thus, a short war was waged in his heart before he closed his eyes and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy. I really shouldn't have come. I don't want to put you in a nasty situation, as ridiculous as that might sound, then."

Draco sophisticatedly put his fire whiskey away and stared strictly at Potter's face. Harry opened his eyes again, meeting Draco's cut crystal ones. In that monemt, Harry felt he could have lost himself forever.

"Kiss me, Potter."

Harry blinked twice before he could understand the words Draco had just said. His mouth fell open with surprise as the realisation dawned to him.

"W-what?" he stammered.

"Give me the God damn kiss you've so long wanted to give," Malfoy commanded. "I promise I don't have poisonous fangs."

Harry collected himself. Draco was serious.

"Oh, of course. But are you sure that I don't have poisonous fangs, Malfoy?" Harry said, changing his voice to teasing.

Draco lifted his eyebrow again and smiled challengingly. "I'm ready to take that risk."

Inside, something warned Harry that this was all a game. A dangerous game that would lead nowhere but the deepest infernos of the universe. But he couldn't help himself. He leaned forwards and pressed his lips against Draco's.

Draco tasted of cinnamon and fire whiskey. His lips were soft, seductive and almost innocent at the same time. Harry tightened the kiss, feeling very high. He wanted to crush that pretty mouth with his own. He wanted to crush that beautiful body under his own. He wanted to make Draco cry. He wanted… He wanted…

The dungeon clamoured. Obviously, this was something nobody could ever have imagined in their wildest moments to see.

"Oh, the fucking Saint of Avalon, somebody take a picture of this!" came a yell from the blur that was surrounding Harry and Malfoy.

Harry slid his hand behind Draco's crane and pulled him harshly closer. Ferociously, he ate the blonde Slytherin. Malfoy played along, surrendering to the rough caresses. A flashlight blinded them both for a moment, and they closed their eyes.

Potter pinned Malfoy between himself and the backrest of the sofa, only deepening the kiss. Draco's every nerve was in fire, which was a new experience for him. Harry was so powerful, so domineering that Draco felt thoroughly weak. Harry tasted like cherry, honey and spices, and Malfoy was afraid that he would begin to cry with pleasure. Therefore, he tried to push Harry away. Before he succeeded, he had to use real force.

"Something to tell your grandchildren," Mary-Ann winced from her seat.

Harry breathed rapidly against Malfoy's cheek after Draco had broken their kiss. He felt intoxicated. He felt he had never experienced anything so wonderful than their lips together.

Draco's breaths were rapid, as well. After a while of recollecting his thoughts, he pulled something out of his pocket, placing it between Potter's lips. Harry felt it was a little pellet. Then Draco made Harry bite it broken.

A bitter, almost acerbic liquid embraced Harry's tongue. Right after, he felt extremely odd and vulnerable. He flinched as Malfoy grabbed him from the wrists and whispered in his ear so silently that only Harry could hear it.

"What is your weak spot, Potter?"

Something forced Harry to speak the truth. "Right now, you are."

Draco's expression didn't change. It was still unreadable. "Do you love me, Potter?"

Harry felt very weird, indeed. "I don't know."

"Would you like to learn?"

This question made Harry really fight against the peculiar feeling. In vain.

"Yes."

Draco smiled triumphantly. He caressed Potter's raven locks and took a gentle bite of his earlobe.

"Good."

Harry swallowed and shivered slightly. Then he went to sit on Draco's lap, his knees on both side of Draco's hips. He pressed his forehead tiredly against Draco's shoulder and Draco twined arms around him.

"Malfoy? Why the fuck do I tell you these things?" Harry faltered.

"Because, I lied to you." Draco smiled sneakily. "In truth, I do have poisonous fangs."

And Harry realised. Truth Potion. Draco had just presented him The Dementor's Kiss.

…TBC…

A/N: Uh, okay, I did warn you this chapter was a long one. And, it might take time for me to update after this… I'm kind of embarrassed with myself.


	10. Poetics

**10. Poetics**

"You play dirty, Malfoy."

Harry sat in Malfoy's arms, his warm breaths caressing the boy's neck. He was leaning his forehead on Malfoy's shoulder, trying to shake off the confusing effects of the Truth Potion. The small pellet had been very strong with influence, but luckily transient. Gentle shivers went trough Harry's body as the clope gradually burned away. The world around was illusory, and Harry didn't open his eyes, fearing that he would lose the dream of Draco Malfoy if he did.

"Of course I play dirty. I'm still a Slytherin, remember."

Draco felt very relaxed, which was quite the opposite of what Potter was feeling. He enjoyed the Gryffindor boy's weight in his arms, enjoyed his spicy breaths and his dozy nuzzling against his shoulder. Reaching for his fire whiskey again, he returned to follow how the rest of the party was going. 

_They are all pretending that they don't consider Potter and me anything special, _Draco smiled at himself. _Although I can clearly see that they're all very perplexed. Crabbe and Goyle's faces are the most laughable. Ten points for the chubby Slytherin zombies, each!_

Draco buried his nose in Potter's raven locks. A pleasurable scent of green apples filled his nostrils. _This really is something special. What the hell am I doing? What the hell is Potter doing? We both must be crazy. Merlin, he's the fucking Harry Potter! And I'm Draco Malfoy, of Malfoy Manor! My father would kill me if he knew!_

Draco pressed his eyebrows together. _On the other hand, this doesn't necessarily mean anything serious. Why couldn't I play with the Boy Who Lived for a short while? I would get the upper hand of him, for certain. He's just too good-natured to suspect a betrayal. And in the end, when he's helplessly in love with me, and when I am totally bored with him, I could hand him easily to the Dark Lord, and get the undying respect of the Death Eaters._

He tensed slightly as Potter slithered an arm around his bare waist. He had completely forgotten that his shirt was open, and was taken by slight surprise. However, very nice surprise. Draco was positively turned on when Harry scratched his back gently right over the waistline of his trousers. They had been tight already from the beginning on, but now he seemed to grow out of them in just seconds. _Mmh_… perhaps I shouldn't think about serious matters tonight… __

"Well, well. Isn't this interesting," a sarcastic statement came abruptly from Draco's left side. The speaker was Terri Boot from Ravenclaw, glancing murderously at Harry.

"Yes, I find this rather interesting as well, Boot," Draco answered tediously, taking a smouldering nip from his whiskey. "What do you want?"

Boot shifted his weight from one foot to another, looking extremely put out. "You are a sodding liar, Malfoy. You told me you weren't gay, and here you are, fucking Harry Potter in your arms, you motherfucker!" 

"Language," Draco said, taking his coldest expression. "If you can't swear fluently, don't swear at all. Your pitiable attempts to be tuff really bore me."

"I don't care! You're a slimy swindler, a deceitful bastard!" Boot cried. "You don't know how disappointed I was when you let me know you weren't gay. And look at you now!"

Draco's grey eyes were smiling like freezing ice cubes in a Daiquiri drink. "If I remember correctly, I never told you I was not gay, Boot. I never told you anything at all." 

Boot scrunched his fists and spoke from between his compressed teeth. "You still let me understand that you were straight."

At this point, Harry opened his eyes and began to follow the spar curiously, his head cutely leaning on Malfoy's chest.

"And why would I care what kind of impression you have on me, Boot?" Draco's stare was so serrated it could've cut Terri in two halves.

"You twisted bastard!" Boot rampaged, his small blue eyes glistering with jealousy towards Harry. He took a pint of Warrington's Special from the table and threw the liquor straight at Draco's face. 

"This is what impression I have on you, Malfoy! Sticky, deceitful and bitter!"

Never before in his life had Draco experienced a drink thrown at his face. He was dazed for a moment, scowling at his liquor-streaming locks. And then he was infuriated. He tried to get up to punch Boot, but Potter reined him in, pressing him back in the chair. 

"Don't mind him, Malfoy," he said, smiling craftily. 

Draco arched his other eyebrow, out of the old habit. "Don't mind him? He just fucking ruined my coiffure!"

Harry swiftly dived for Draco's neck and began to trace the lines of the dripping alcohol with his tongue. "I wouldn't say he ruined anything…"

Draco inhaled with the sudden pleasure. Potter's wet mouth stroking his neck felt overwhelmingly good.

"You taste so good…" Potter teased, and moved over to clean Draco's chin. Gingerly, he then kissed the liquor away from Draco's lips, then caressing his jowl with the tip of his tongue. He gave Terri Boot a nastily side-splitting glance, biting Draco gently from the corner of the jaw.

"Mmh, ahh… Potter…" Draco moaned, making Terri Boot rant out of his wits.

"Oh, Malfoy…" Harry played along, sliding his hands around Draco's neck and pulling him into a devoted kiss.

Boot couldn't handle it anymore. He stormed away, the tendons of his neck strained with rage. Harry and Draco both began to laugh in the middle of their kiss, and parted. 

"What was that all about?" asked Harry, following Boot with his gaze.

"Oh, just one letter," Draco shrugged, searching for a lighter for a cinnamon cigarette.

Harry helped him with a neatly targeted '_Incendio__' _and smiled. "A letter?"

"Boot once wrote me a love-letter, can you imagine?"

"Did he really?" Harry was extremely hilarious. "What did he say?"

"Oh, something so repulsive I don't want to remember. I hate men who whine of their loveliness in corny, self-pitying poems."

Harry giggled. "I never knew Boot was so much in love with you."

Green eyes met the grey ones, both of them being animated with abnormal approval of each other. Or perhaps it was just the alcohol. In any case, their unnaturally easy conversation came to a sudden end when a howl of the most horrible kind flooded in the dungeon room, piercing their brains.

"The Banshee girl!" Harry drew a scared breath. "Somebody's trying to intrude in here!"

Draco tasted his cigarette and slowly began to push Harry away from his lap. "I rather expected something like this would happen," he said with his typical drawl. "No panic, Potter. Come here."

Malfoy hauled himself up and took Potter from the arm. He led the way towards the dungeon's huge grate, where an azure fire was sinisterly flaming. On the mantelpiece, there was a sharp and shining, stunningly beautiful sabre, lying gorgeously in its rack. The hilt was forged of antique silver, tiny diamonds embed in it, making the handle look like a starry sky. The razor-sharp blade shone in platinum, its deadly edge reflecting the blue firelight. It was the most beautiful item Harry had seen in his life.

"I brought this down here tonight," Draco explained. "I made a portkey of it."

Harry could distinguish the words _'Draco Lucius Malfoy' _engraved in the blade's smooth surface.

"A portkey that leads us where?" Harry asked. He nervously glanced over his shoulder at the direction of the entrance. He saw the other celebrators gradually disappearing as well, probably with the help of their own portkeys.

"You'll see soon enough," Draco sighed impatiently and pulled Harry closer. Then he grabbed the curved sword.

Harry felt the uncomfortable feeling of the world disappearing from around him. The last thing he saw of the dungeon was the head of Argus Filch penetrating trough the sliced painting of the Banshee. Next moment, Harry was trying to gain his balance on a dewy grass field, gentle wind chilling his burning cheeks. 

"Did you see him, Malfoy? Our saucy drop-in was Filch!"

Draco swung the long sabre gracefully trough the air and smiled. "Of course it was Filch. Who else would be dense enough to saunter along the Slytherin aisles at one o'clock in the morning?"

"Well, Snape maybe?" Harry suggested. 

Draco elegantly shook his head, his silvery hair falling in front of his eyes still sticky with the liquor. "Snape covered this party up for us." 

"Imagine that," Harry sighed, actually unsurprised. Of course Snape would do something like that for his own students.

However, Harry forgot all about Argus Filch and Severus Snape when he looked at Draco and saw how the pale moonlight outlined the boy's body with an angelic halo. He adored the lights and shadows playing over Draco's bare chest with misty eyes._ Malfoy is dead sexy, there's no denying that. Why oh why did he have to grow up so twisted?_

Then Harry thought about Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, who he had met one too many times. _Of course it's his family. Actually, Draco is just like his father, only so pretty. The poisonous hate towards the world is always present in his eyes. Not once I have seen his wards shatter down, not even with Crabbe and Goyle. He's really succeeded to block his emotions, to hide his weaknesses from everybody. Even from himself, I guess. _Harry bit his lower lip. _Then again, that distant coolness makes him even more attractive…_

"Earth calling Potter," Draco's chaffy voice declared. "Don't stare at me that way."

"Eh… Sorry. Where are we?" Harry asked, awakening from his musings. He studied the nightly landscape and discerned some dark forest all around the glade where he and Malfoy were standing.

"Not far away," Draco replied. "This is the same dratted meadow where you fouled that Hungarian Horntail two years ago."

Indeed it was. The first task of the Triwizard Tournament had been carried out in here. Except now the huge stands were missing, as were the dragons -if not counted Malfoy, of course. Everything was now replaced by the dark shadows of the night. Harry went for a little stroll, living some wild moments of his past again in his mind. When he returned to Malfoy, the boy was lying on the ground, gazing dreamily at the full, white sphere in the sky.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, settling next to him.

"It's the moon," Draco said nostalgically. "I'm drunk with the moon." 

"You're drunk with the booze, Malfoy, and nothing else," Harry grinned. "Don't fucking start poetic. It doesn't suit you at all." 

"Excuse me," Draco protested, pretending to be offended. "Poetry happens to suit me more than well. Just look at me! I am the famous Silver Prince of Slytherin, the most charming man in the magical world, the handsome, eye-catching new follower of the dark wizardry, so how can I not be poetic?" 

Harry frowned at him. "How can you be proud of something like, say, becoming a dark wizard in future?"

"I can be proud of anything that concerns me," Draco easily answered, plucking the damp grass with his left hand. "Besides, it is the path made ready for me. I have all the right connections, all the right knowledge and training, and wealth. Not forgetting the unshakable fear I raise in my servants and fellow students already now."

"I don't fear you, Malfoy," Harry laughed scornfully. "You couldn't possibly upset me anyhow. Don't forget that I've already fought Voldemort four times. So you can stop that boasting right now."

"You are sometimes so annoying, did you know that?" Draco complained, tugging a handful of grass under Harry's tight chemise. 

Harry pulled a face when the slippery weeds touched his skin. "You undeserving, ill-natured son of a…"

Draco tried to spring up and escape Harry's revengeful clutch, but failed. Harry held him by the shoulders and pulled him back down. He locked Malfoy under his own weight, holding the boy's arms firmly against the moist ground. 

"One day you'll be sorry that you chose Voldemort over me, Malfoy."

"I doubt that very much, Potter," Draco revealed his corner teeth. "I won't fuck away my beliefs. Not even with you."

Harry's smile was oddly possessive, with a dangerous shade. "You'll change your mind. I promise you."

He forced Malfoy into a ravenous kiss. He wanted to make the Slytherin boy defenceless, for one time in his life. Therefore, his kiss was bruising. He enhanced the effect by biting Malfoy's lips hard enough to make him moan with pain. Or pleasure. Or both.

Harry's kiss was so overpowering that Draco began to shudder, despite himself. He had this little trace of masochism in him, so he didn't mind the pain, on the contrary. And the second time that night, he felt how domineering Potter could be. 

_You would never know when you look at him… He's the Gryffindor Golden Boy, so goody-goody with Dumbledore, so obeying and meek towards everybody. Wonder what Weasel and Mud-Blood might think about their precious Harry if they saw him now. Awww…. Draco moaned out loud when Harry proceeded to bite his neck. __Alright.__ Even if I have the mental upper hand, he definitely wins on the physical side._

Harry released Draco's hands when he began to rip off the boy's damp-gone shirt. Instantly, Draco thrust his fingers across Harry's hair, pulling his head backwards and making Harry move aside. 

"We will see who changes whose mind, Potter…" Draco mumbled seductively, abruptly sliding his hand in Harry's trousers, finding easily what he wanted.

Harry's body stiffened in panic. "W-what are you doing?" 

Draco looked at Harry's infinite green eyes half amazed. "I'm going to fuck you, that's what I'm doing."

"Oh… Of course…" 

Draco squeezed his hand around something in Harry's pants, and Harry's eyes flew wide. "Eh… Not so hastily, Malfoy…"

There was such a helpless gleam in Potter's eyes that Draco instantly drew apart. He moved his hands over Harry's shoulder blades, and Harry sighed with relief.

"You haven't done it before? Not even with Brown?"

Harry flushed and tore away from Malfoy, being angry. "I've done it once, alright. But it wasn't with Lavender."

"Really? Who was it, then?" Draco was genuinely interested.

"I don't want to say."

"Please!" Draco imitated Lavender's usual pleading tone and grinned.

"No! I won't tell you! Besides, it wasn't that good. Actually, it was horrible."

Draco seemed to die with curiosity. "Aw, come on, Potter! I promise I won't tell anybody!"

"Like I would trust you! Rita Skeeter would be the first one to know!"

"I will never fuck you if you don't tell me," Draco threatened.

"Fine. And I won't fuck you," Harry replied, turning Draco his back.

Draco sulked.

Harry was morose and stubborn.

"Fine," Draco finally decided, giving a surrendering sigh. "Come here, Potter. Let's take it slowly. And you can keep your fucking mouth shut."

Harry smiled. "I thought that was the Code of Conduct, anyway…"

Draco kept his word. He made it slowly. He undressed Harry leisurely between his caresses, enjoying the trembles he set running along the dark-haired boy's spine. He adored Harry's soft skin that was several hues darker than his own. The lines of Harry's sporty body felt nice under the touch, and Draco was especially heated every time he touched a particularly tentative spot, making Harry's muscles tense. 

He teased Harry for so long with gentle tickles that Harry was dying with frustration in the end. 

Potter was indeed heavily turned on. He had never experienced anything so ecstatic than Draco's warm touches on his skin, enclosed by the cool night-time air. He lied on the grass mattress, letting Malfoy do what ever he wanted with him. It was not like he wasn't keeping an eye on the Slytherin; he still didn't trust Draco at all, and was watchful. But he was not fighting either, and fully enjoyed the pleasure he got from the demanding strokes.

He gained back his self-control little by little, and finally rolled over Malfoy, tugging Draco's high-quality trousers down. Draco didn't say a word, only stared in Harry's eyes silently. Harry was once again happy that he had taken the glasses away, being now able to press his forehead against Malfoy's without anything coming in the way.

He penetrated silently, pulling Draco's hair when doing so, making the boy wince a little. He was both shaken and rapturous of what he was doing, not completely even understanding the situation. He was drunk, and so was Malfoy. Neither of them was acting normally that night. Harry looked admirably at Draco, who hadn't received any preparations whatsoever from him. _He doesn't complain. He doesn't complain, although I know this must hurt him. Harry observed Draco's every expression while making love to him. _He keeps his eyes closed, so that I could not read his mind. Clever bitch… __

"Look at me, Malfoy," Harry commanded.

Draco opened his beautiful eyes. The moon reflected from them, making him look oddly fragile. Harry kissed him carefully. _This is something I could never get from Lavender or anybody else… Oh, Lord, he feels so good…_

A lonely owl fluttered across the meadow. Forceful gusts of wind ruffled over the treetops, bringing the fresh scents of the new morning along. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were lying in each other's arms on the ground, trying to gather their thoughts together. They could see each other perfectly under the bright moonlight, their intertwined bodies veiled with milky tan of the moon. Harry had nestled his face in Draco's hair, attempting to calm down his heart that was bumping too rapidly. Draco instead was breathing evenly by now, looking hazily at the stars above.

"Why did you prefer this place for a portkey?" Harry whispered in Draco's ear, tiredly. 

"I come here often to calm down," Draco said, a little smile dancing on his lips. _Yes, I come here to calm down. And practise wandless Dark Arts. This place is safe since nobody ever comes here._

Draco picked up the platinum sabre that was lying next to him. He looked at his reflection from the blade. It was beautiful. Then he turned the blade so that he could see Harry's image trough it. It was beautiful, too. Out of the blue he got the urge to press his hand against Harry's chest. His fingers formed a little cage right above the heart. 

"This is mine, Harry," he whispered.

Harry had been nearly asleep. Now he woke up in a jolt, feeling a strangling emotion in his throat. _What did Malfoy just say? That had to be a delusion… That really didn't happen…_

"This is mine," Draco repeated, now looking insistently in Harry's eyes.

Harry shivered. He wanted to say something, but the words didn't want to come out of his mouth. He only felt how Draco pressed his fingers as deep in his flesh as possible, and closed his fist, painfully scratching Harry's skin. As if taking his heart out. _This must be one hell of a delusion… My dream…_

"No! Give it back, Malfoy," Harry heard his own voice heatedly whisper.

"I don't think so," Draco's said, laughing meanly and pouring bittersweet salt in the open wound in Harry's chest. "I really don't think so."

Harry felt dizzy. He rolled on his stomach, looking at the fresh, shiny green grass. 

And he fell. Fell trough the absorbing greenness of the meadow. 

…TBC…

A/N: Okay, _please don't crush me too badly, this was the first time I wrote __anything like this. You can tell me what was wrong, that's alright, but please do it in a gentle way… _


	11. Bluebell Flames

**11. Bluebell Flames**

Morning brought confusion to Harry Potter. 

He felt guilty for no real reason. He felt dirty for no real reason. 

And he felt every reason to feel both.

He woke up in his own bed. He had no picture whatsoever how he had gotten there. He reached for his glasses, but saw the world blurry with them. Instantly he remembered he had repaired his eyesight with magic the night before. So he put the glasses away.

He had all his clothes back on. He had no memory of dressing himself. Somebody had nicely wrapped also a blanket around him. The curtains were closed; only a narrow gap let the weak sunbeams flood inside his four-poster.

_How the hell did I get in here? _

Harry straightened to sit up, carefully drawing the curtains a bit more open. As the morning light struck his eyes, he felt his whole head explode. 

_Aargh__… _

Massaging his temples, he escaped the warmth of his bed. He cringed as his bare feet touched the cold stone floor. Yawning with unforgiving headache, he scanned the room trough, expecting to see his roommates still snoring deep in sleep. However, the room was silent and empty. 

_Oh, great… What the fuck is the time? _

Harry went to look at his reflection in Dean's mirror. He frowned and looked at his features closer. Numb, bruised lips. Messy hair. Tired eyes. And a love's bite right under his jaw. 

_Great.__ Just great. And what can I say for an explanation? _

Harry sneezed and coughed. He had also caught flu during his nightly adventure.

_Yes. Getting even better… _

Harry rushed into the bathroom. He felt really cold, so he had a long, hot bath. Then he dressed in a clean white shirt and blue jeans.

_Where the devil is that wand…? I need to fix my face a little before I can go anywhere…_

Draco Malfoy was up earlier than his night-hour aficionado. He was looking as enchanting as always, without a single trace of the night slept on a damp sward. He and other members of the Slytherin Quidditch team were now having their practise at the pitch, under the hazy, mist-veiled beams of the sun.

"Come on! Twenty times left!" shouted Etre, their personal fitness trainer. Chilly air made his warm breaths vaporize as he encouraged his team. "Nineteen… Eighteen…"

The Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin would take place on Sunday, the next day. And Etre was merciless. The team had already scurried thirty bouts around the pitch, practised with the Bludgers and the Snitch, trained their skills in smashing each other off the brooms, and tensed their every muscle with many other demanding manoeuvres. And now there were the presses left.

Draco experienced the nasty feeling of perspiration running along his neck and spine. He frowned but continued lifting his chest from the ground patiently. He really had to wonder how well he and his friends had survived the practise trough, taken that none of them had slept three hours, except the fourth year chaser, Malcolm Baddock.

"Twelve… Eleven… Ten…" 

Justin's voice became indistinct as the blood rushed in Draco's ears. Concentrating to think about something else, he forced his muscles to work the last trial. 

_Damn that Potter! Passing out the way he did, in the middle of the fucking woods! 'Spect he doesn't drink that often. _Draco scowled at the little dandelion in front of his nose. _But it doesn't help the fact that I was forced to dress him and drag him back at the castle! How annoying! I should've left him there._

"Three… Two… One… And we're done!"

Draco fell to the ground, breathing rapidly. He really needed to take a shower again, after the one he had taken only four hours ago. His hair wasn't filthy with liquor anymore, but with horrible sweat, which Draco hated more than anything. He glanced around, and saw the relieved faces of Montague, Bole, Baddock, Warrington and Greengrass. They all lay joggling on the lawn, smiling with satisfaction. There was nothing the Slytherin team loved more than a good, body-breaking practise.

"Quite a night, eh?" grinned Montague at Draco, after they had recovered a few minutes. "I still can't believe it. Did you really invite Harry Potter there, of all the people in this castle?"

Draco gave him a warning look, nodding towards Baddock, who was sprawling at not so remarkable distance. "Not so loud, Rodriguez. Remember we're not allowed to talk about it in public."

Montague smiled apologetically. Luckily it seemed like Baddock hadn't heard a word. 

"Well, what the hell was it all about?" he continued, now in a keen whisper. "Brutal fun with Potter's emotions?"

Draco smiled deviously. "I just wanted to rock the world a bit. And so did Potter, obviously, when accepting the invitation."

"Honestly, nobody knows what to think of you two now," giggled Greengrass silently in his ear from the other side. "You're not in love with Potter, are you, Draco?"

"In love?" Draco spat. "What do you think, Mary-Ann? That I'm some fudge-brained Gryffindor girl who likes to wear pink pixie dresses?"

Montague and Warrington grinned. Greengrass winked her eye. "Perhaps only a little?"

"Love! What is love but a weakness? My father taught me that long, long ago. I don't even know what it feels like, to be honest. And I certainly don't want to find out, either. I don't want any weaknesses," Draco retorted, having cruel fun plucking the petals away from the little dandelion. "Besides, even if I was to learn to love somebody, would it be Harry Potter? I don't think so."

"You better watch yourself, Malfoy," teased Etre, sitting next to Montague and sliding a hand over his mate's shoulders. "You never know if Potter suddenly takes the upper hand of you."

Draco primarily looked disgusted. Everybody laughed.

"Harry James Potter! Where were you last night?" 

Hermione stood in the middle of the common room floor, her hands on her hips. Harry could hear from the shrillness of her voice that she was close to erupting like an acid geyser. Behind her, cuddled against the backrest of an armchair, was sitting Lavender Brown. Her eyes were red with crying. Leaning to the mantelpiece of the grate was Ron, looking demanding and severe.

"Well?" demanded Hermione, when Harry's answer was delayed.

"I, eh, went out for a stroll. And lost the track of the time," Harry silently mumbled, holding his aching temples.

"Out for a stroll, in the middle of the night?" Ron commented, rather maliciously. "Are you mad? Or still drunk?" 

Harry smiled remorsefully and shrugged. "Perhaps a bit of both…"

"That is _not _helping!" Hermione huffed. "Like it wouldn't have been enough that you left Lavender without a date and your best friends with a good deal of worry, you also came back sleeping like a baby angel in Draco Malfoy's arms, completely unaware what was happening in the world around you!" Hermione was now erupting. "_Draco fucking Malfoy's arms_, Harry!"

Harry grimaced and looked at the floor, very sickened. _Oh. My. God. What the hell was Malfoy thinking?_

"He told us he found you from the Slytherin staircase, totally passed out. He also gave us a vivid explanation how he had tried to kick you awake, without any results. And since he didn't want to see you the first thing in the morning, he decided to drag your arse up here."

Harry was slightly purple from holding his breath for so long. Hermione really was angry. She usually never swore.

"What were you thinking, wandering in that direction after nine pints of Butterbeer?" Ron sermonized. "Malfoy could've hexed you really badly! Thank your sweet mother in heaven that the Ferret was also too intoxicated to even consider hexing!"

Harry was relieved, although still feeling sick. "Well… I guess I was a bit… out of character…" he coughed, with only half because of the flu.

"At least you should talk with Lavender!" Hermione said as her final statement. "Come on, Ron!"

Harry watched as his two best friends disappeared trough the portrait hole, holding hands. He felt happy for them two, for finally solving their emotional overhand knots. The real world, however, did not let him stay in his thoughts for too long. He walked to Lavender, observing her wretched state with eyes he hoped looked worried.

"How are you doing?" he asked, biting his sore upper lip.

Lavender cried noisily. "I feel so totally sad!" she sniffled. "I should have known better…"

Harry thought he had never been in a situation this uncomfortable, not even with Voldemort. He pondered his words for a second or two. _How am I going to tell Lavender that it is all over now?_

"I'm sorry, Lavender," he began. "I just…" 

"You! Sorry!" interrupted Lavender, howling miserably. "Oh, it's _me_ who should be sorry! When you told me you weren't feeling well last night… I should've led you safely back here, right that moment! I shouldn't have allowed you to go and get lost in some horrible Slytherin dungeons! In such ill condition! How I hate myself! How selfish I was, not wanting to quit the party!"

Harry was totally dumbfounded. _Is Lavender the one who feels guilty now? Oh, fuck. I'd rather have her angry than guilty… This is going to be really hard…_

"I hope you forgive me, Harry," the girl abruptly rose from her seat and snuggled against Harry's chest. "Please, forgive me!"

"Uh… Sure. Whatever," he gasped, before he knew what he was saying. Harry tried to get rid of her clutch as gently as possible, and took a couple of steps backwards.

_Damn! There's no way I can bring this subject up now. How dense can she be? Doesn't she understand anything? I am being a complete ass towards her, and she thinks that the fault is in her! _

"Eh… Where did Hermione and Ron go, Lavender?"

"They promised they'd wait for us outside," Lavender smiled, her voice a bit more joyful than before.

Harry looked confused. "What for?"

"Oh, it's The Hogsmeade weekend!" the girl smiled coyly. "Did you forget? Ooh, I just _love that little town! I'll buy some chocolate frogs, and some Sherbert lemons. And can you imagine that Gladracks Wizardwear is presenting their new winter collection today! I think I need a new muff. Yes, and Hermione told me that the Sleakazy's Hair Potion makes miracles, so I think I'll have to buy a bottle of that, as well…"_

_Shit, shit, shit! _Harry grazed his hand across the ridge of his nose, nearly crying. 

_Shit!_

Because of the Hogsmeade weekend, the castle was nearly empty. Draco tiredly slouched in his dormitory room, collapsing on the soft silky-sheeted mattress of his bed. His cheeks were the colour of a peachy rose, after the rapid walk from the Quidditch changing rooms to the castle. His cotton-soft locks were nearly white, being still wet after the shower. He scowled at the ceiling when a little headache tried to crawl under his scull. All the other Slytherins were gone to Hogsmeade, but Draco had stayed behind. He felt like having some time for himself, without seeing the hubbub of the little magical town. 

_Wonder how Potter's doing… I hope he's feeling very sick. _Draco's eyes glimmered in a predatory way. _I just wonder if I see him today, so I could kick him in the ass for being so troublesome last night! I'm a Malfoy, for crying out loud! I am not supposed to be carrying Potters around! _

An image of Harry lying on top of him suddenly flooded in Draco's mind. Those green eyes, covered with rough locks of night-black hair… Draco silently sniggered. _Oh, yes, he desperately wants me. I could see it from his eyes. _Draco inhaled deeply and jadedly. _Now I only have to make him so obsessed with me that he would do anything for me… Anything…_

Draco dozed for a while, thinking about Harry. 

Hogsmeade with all its adorable little shops was swarming with black-cloaked students at one o'clock that afternoon. Harry followed Hermione, Lavender and Ron, swaying on the background when they entered several boutiques and confectioneries. His head didn't stop trying to blow up, even though he had swallowed already three of some pills Hermione had given him. No effect. Only the mind-ripping, nerve-scratching ache from minute to another.

And as if this wouldn't have been enough, Harry couldn't help noticing that he was the general target of some very significant smiles from the elder students of the other houses. As he entered the Zonko's, Warrington, Etre and Bole grinned at him cheerfully, Bole even winking his eye. Lavender wasn't helping the situation, wondering out loud what the Slytherins' weird behaviour could mean. Also Ron and Hermione got suspicious when Pansy Parkinson approached Harry, whispering something to his ear.

"What the hell is she whispering to you?" Ron's face was dismayed. "She should keep her fingers far off you!"

Harry tried to grin. _She just told me that I look still very sexy without the glasses, and that I should really wear leather again. _"It was nothing. She just… Well. I don't know. She's nuts."

"Damn right she's nuts," mumbled Ron, piling a heap of Dungbombs in his arms.

"What if we go and get some pints of butterbeer?" suggested Harry, half yawning. "I might need a Veela's Embrace, though, to ease this headache a little."

"Veela's Embrace? What's that?" Hermione tilted her head like a curious bird.

"Er… It's a drink." Harry sucked his lower lip in slight disarray. "It's very strong."

"Where have you learnt about drinks?" asked Ron, now rummaging trough a tub of Hiccup Sweets.

"Um, well, Lupin has told me a little," he lied. In truth, he had learned about the drink last night in Slytherin dungeons, of all the places. 

_Damn! Remus! I haven't written to him in weeks! I must do it tonight. _Harry frowned. After Sirius' death, Harry had taken Remus Lupin as his confidant. The werewolf had been a great support for him during the summer after the fifth year. They had been writing letters… Harry had been feeling so empty and dark… Hell, he was _still_ feeling dark… But Remus' company and wise words had somehow kept him sane, if not actually being able to mend the longing and pain of his crushed heart. 

"The Three Broomsticks is always so crammed," Hermione said. "You think we can get seats?"

"I think we could make a stop to another place," answered Harry. "Remember Hog's Head? It's the place where Hagrid won the Dragon egg years ago. It's not so far away."

"But they're not very student-friendly there," protested Lavender. "I think we should…"

"Does anybody else object except Lavender?" Harry asked, a little abruptly and crossly. 

Hermione and Ron keenly shook their heads, in slight confusion, half scared of their best friend.

"Good. Follow me."

Draco Malfoy woke up to a cruel rattle that came from the direction of the window. It was small and placed right close to the ceiling, because the dormitory room was in the dungeons. Draco opened lazily his other eye. 

"Come in, Malum. Break the damn window, I don't care. I'm just too sleepy to come and let you in," he said, his voice lazy and muffled.

A fine black eagle owl thrashed the window in shards with its hard peak and flew in. It landed on Draco's bended knee with its remarkable eagle weight. Draco unfastened a fine parchment from its leg.

"You know where to take some goodies," he said, and began to open the silver ribbon around the parchment. 

Malum flew on Goyle's bed and pulled out a snack pouch from under the pillow. It ate a couple of bacon-flavoured crisps and dashed off again. 

Before reading the letter, Draco drew out his wand and whispered an idle '_reparo'_, pointing towards the remains of the broken window. It was fixed in seconds, not letting a slightest waft of wind creep inside anymore. 

The letter was from Lucius Malfoy. Draco knew it before he opened it, since nobody but his father ever used Malum. The eagle was evil, in short.

_Draco,_

_Expect us to visit Hogwarts next Thursday. I will explain some things to you in person. Your mother asks me to remind you that Hailie's birthday is in two weeks._

_Lucius_

Draco paled. 

This little, ordinary-looking letter made the rosy colour completely run away from his cheeks.

Hog's Head. A pub not meant for children. 

Both Hermione and Lavender escaped the menacing atmosphere by grabbing Ron's arms. Harry led the way, as if he had been the owner of the pub. This behaviour made Ron very worried. He had seen Harry retreat day after day inside a weird core, being very hostile towards the world. Guiding the girls towards a little table in the corner, he decided he would talk with Harry seriously in the evening. There was badly something not right about Harry's behaviour.

There were only six other customers in Hog's Head. When the elder men first saw the teenagers enter, they grimaced angrily, eyes fiery with disgust. But when they recognized that the incomers were in the company of Harry Potter, their attitude changed from hostile to favourable. This all in five seconds after seeing Harry's lightning-shaped scar. 

Harry saw none of this. He was just happy to get his hands on a large mug of something relieving. Veela's Embrace was a hot-shot, however of a size of a tea mug. He sipped the burning liquid in ecstasy, giving a moan of pleasure. However, for Hermione, Ron and Lavender he ordered plain butterbeers. He didn't want to scare his friends any further.

"The autumn is coming with a rush," remarked Hermione, braiding her frizzy hair. "Have you guys thought about the subjects you'll choose for the last year? Where are you going to specialize?"

"I think I'm following Charlie to Romania. I'm kind of interested in Dragon care," replied Ron. 

Harry found this very amusing and snorted. 

"What?" Ron scowled. "You think I can't manage with a couple of Peruvian Viperteeth or Ukrainian Ironbellies?"

"But of course you'll manage," Harry hastily smiled. _But what about Malfoyian Poisonfangs?_

"I'm going to choose Glamour Charms, and definitely Divination! I've always loved Divination!" said Lavender. "Ooh, you wouldn't believe what I saw in my teacup last lesson! There was this huge house, a _rich_ house, and there was a fair blonde woman standing at the door, in a wedding dress. I think she was me!"

"Really interesting…" Harry looked very dull. He swallowed a couple of nips more from his mug. 

_I can't take this anymore. I just can't. I must dump her. I really must. _A resolute expression stretched over Harry's boyish features.

"The Gladracks Wizardwear's fashion show starts in thirty minutes," squealed Lavender, enthralled. "Think we should finish our drinks soon and get going?"

"There's another kind of show starting in two minutes, right here," Harry unsympathetically burred, inhaling the warm fumes of his drink. "You sure you don't care to see that, as well?"

Lavender grinned artificially, glancing nervously around. "Well, what kind of a show?"

"You tell me."

Lavender was baffled. 

Hermione and Ron looked elsewhere, trying to look indifferent. They knew Harry so well that they could recognize from his voice that nothing nice was coming.

Harry lifted his opaque gaze straight at his girlfriend's face. 

"I am leaving you, Lavender. I can't date you anymore."

There was a completely silent moment for the next ten seconds. 

And then the hell broke loose.

"_What_?" Lavender screamed with her most high-pitched voice. "Why not? What do you mean? You must be joking! Harry, this really isn't funny!" 

"Try to understand. This was a mistake. I've known it already for a long time."

"Long time!" Lavender's voice did not cease down. "We've dated but five days!"

"Sorry."

"Aaaaargh! You cruel bastard! You liar!" Lavender was shaking all over. "What the hell have I done to deserve this? You just dump me, coolly, in front of your best friends, without giving me one good explanation! You just wanted to start using that famous scar of yours, to trick girls and abuse them? You heart-breaker! I… I… I _hate_ you!" 

Lavender did the same thing Boot had done the night before and threw her butterbeer all over Harry's face. "I will make you sorry! I will make you pay! You don't deserve even my friendship anymore! You're a complete jerk! Asshole!"

Lavender tossed her long white hair as elegantly as she could, tears streaming down her cheeks. Oozing with anger and bitterness, she sailed out of the bar.

Harry glanced at Hermione and Ron, being slightly horrified. Both his friends looked also very aghast, but said nothing. Ron put his hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed it. His eyes told Harry that he had not lost his best friends. Only made them even more suspicious and worried than before, if possible.

Draco was sitting on a windowsill, close to the statue of the hump-backed witch. He had left his bedroom, wanting to find a solitude nobody could break. He had wrapped his cloak tightly around him, as if escaping the warm air, and was looking at the autumn nature outside. The leaves were getting really brown; the bloom of the flowers was fading. However Draco seemed to notice none of this. He was so deep in other thoughts. 

_The hell Hailie's birthday is in two weeks! It was Friday last week_. 

Hailie had seen her first morning three weeks early, but only the Malfoy family knew this. The reason for this secrecy was Lucius, who always was very calculative. He had wanted to keep it a secret, for a reason or other. And now Draco could guess the reason.

_Lord Voldemort._

Draco fidgeted the piece of parchment in his hand. _Your mother asks me to remind you…_ The words danced behind Draco's closed lids. No. Narcissa Malfoy never reminded Draco of anything. She didn't need to. Draco remembered without.

No. This could not mean anything else but the Call. 

_My father will come to see me. He will explain everything to me in detail. _

Draco massaged his left inner arm. In two weeks, Lord Voldemort would burn the Dark Mark there. And Draco would become his slave, for the entire lifetime.

Smiling scarily, young Malfoy crushed the parchment and burned it with beautiful Bluebell flames.

_Spread your wings and fly, Potter. You have fourteen days to escape my deadly bites._

…TBC…


	12. Furious Love

**12. Furious Love**

Long, long walk underground. 

Moist dripping down the earthy walls and the ceiling. A narrow _Lumos spell showing Harry Potter the way back to the castle, down the secret passageway between the Honeydukes and Hogwarts._

Harry had not wanted to go to the fashion show. He didn't feel like seeing Lavender again right now, and he definitely didn't want to adore some fancy dresses. He was ashamed of himself, and a bit depressed. He had escaped even Ron and Hermione, saying that he needed to go and get himself drowned in the lake. Hermione had looked terrified.

There had been nothing for him to purchase from Hogsmeade, either, so Harry had decided to leave the town right away. He had not wanted to use the ordinary route because he felt like being alone, and wanted to think about the recent happenings in tranquil solitude. Even cry a little in peace, if he felt like it. So he had decided to use the secret passageway.

_I can't believe this. It's been a week tomorrow since that embarrassing Quidditch match took place, and I have already had sex with Draco Malfoy. Where the hell is this world going?_

Harry was slightly disappointed that he hadn't seen Malfoy at Hogsmeade. However, he was also relieved. He didn't quite know how he should act in front of the ice-hearted Slytherin now. _Will Malfoy smile at me when I see him again? Will he even acknowledge me? _

Harry made a face when an ugly, fat earthworm fell down on his nose. He threw it away, feeling disgusted. He hurried his steps, being already tired of the darkness and gloominess. The day had been the worst of his life. First the horrible hangover, then Lavender. He really needed to figure out how to cheer up his mind, and walking down an underground aisle wasn't exactly the best means to do it, after all.

_No more than a hundred meters and I'm back at the castle. But then what? Where will I go? Should I try to find Malfoy and tell him that I broke up with Lavender? _Harry grinned. _No, I don't need to. He knows._

Absorbing the light from the tip of his wand in his eyes, he let his thoughts weave around Draco Malfoy completely. _I will make you completely mine, Malfoy. Now that you've let me taste you, I can't let you go anymore. You just watch out… _

Harry's expression was so insatiably predatory that it would have scared even Lord Voldemort out of his wits.

In front of the statue of the Hump-backed Witch, Draco Malfoy watched as the frail, black remains of the burnt parchment danced down the aisle with the help of a feeble draft. Draco couldn't understand where it was coming, but he didn't bother his mind with it very long. He pocketed his wand and descended from the windowsill, smoothing his robes.

"Alone, Malfoy?" 

Draco turned slowly. He could have recognized that irritating twang anywhere. Terry Boot, once again come to spoil his day.

"Well, what does it seem like? That I'm having a follow-up house-party here?"

Terry ignored Malfoy's sarcasm, walking rapidly closer. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I was a complete ass last night."

A flash of something far beyond disgust passed Draco's gleaming eyes. "Not only last night."

"How can you be so evil?" Terry sadly asked. 

Draco smirked hazardously. "My reputation requires mostly masking my contempt for the assholes like you, but at least once a day, I think it's good to let my emotions go."

"You don't have emotions, Malfoy!" cried Boot. 

"Oh, but I do," Draco's smile was frosty. "I feel hatred, pride, anger and lust. However, only the first three of them apply to you."

"And only the last one applies to Potter, I assume?" 

"Hell, you absolutely _need_ to make a fool of yourself, don't you, Boot?"

"I've been a fool for a bit too long," Terry grimaced, looking at Draco very passionately. "Now I'm going extreme." 

Within a second, Draco was harshly taken from the neck and thrown against the statue of the one-eyed old witch. His head smashed hard against the statue's hump, making the world twist oddly in his eyes. A harsh blow of Terry's fist took Draco from the left side of his jowl, spinning his head sideways. A cut emerged on the lower edge of his lip. Then he felt how Boot began to fumble his robes open.

"Get your fucking hands off me, Boot," he hoarsely shouted, spitting blood.

Terry swung his boot against the area between Draco's ribs and belt, and Draco doubled with pain. "Time we sort this out, Malfoy. I've taken enough crap from you."

"Hey, it was me who received your love letter," Draco fought to suck air into his lungs.

Terry hit him once more in the mouth and Draco fell down. 

Boot was made of sturdier built than Draco, so he easily got the upper hand of the blonde boy in fist-fighting. Draco tried to reach for his wand, but it was rapidly captivated by Boot and thrown away, out of his reach. 

Draco was dragged back to the windowsill, his face against the glass. Then he felt Terry's hands working with the buttons of his trousers.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Boot?" Draco belched out, trying to return his eyes to a steady focus.

"I'm going to make you plead for mercy, Malfoy! I'm going to make you scream with pain! I'm going to shag you senseless and beyond!" Boot roared, raving mad.

Draco's eyes went wide with disgust. _Terry Boot is going to rape me? Oh, the absurdity of this all! _Draco felt his buttons give up and yelped. _Then again, the situation really is getting serious…_

Boot grabbed Draco from the hips and swirled him around. Then he pressed his lips on Draco's, kissing him frenetically. Draco fizzed like an angry cat in his clutch, finally biting Boot's tongue with all his might. The Ravenclaw yelled with pain and retreated, holding his mouth. Then he punched Draco in the head, his sharp ring causing a bloody cut emerge on Draco's cheek, right under the left eye. The world was dancing in Draco's head.

"Don't my kisses please you, Malfoy?" Boot shouted a madman's gleam in his eyes. "Is Potter so much better? Is he?"

"Boot, I am warning you," Draco tried to mumble with his aching mouth. "You're a dead man."

There was no clear sense left in Terry Boot's brains. He took Draco from the waist and drew the boy against himself, ripped Draco's shirt open and slid his cold hands over the milky Malfoy skin. Draco gasped with revulsion and looked like he was about to throw up.

"Hey, Boot!" A sudden interruption came from the direction of the statue of the Hump-backed Witch. 

It was Harry Potter. 

Harry Potter, with an expression more than furious. He was holding both his own and Malfoy's wand, pointing them straight at Boot's chest. 

"Allow me to remind you that you are trying to fuck _my_ bitch," he continued, approaching the shocked Ravenclaw and the half-unconscious Malfoy. "Which really pisses me off, I might add."

Terry looked plain horror-struck. "H-how did you get here? How long have you been watching?"

"Well there you have a couple of questions to exercise your puny brains with, Terry," Harry's smile was like elixir of death. "Now get your fucking hands off Malfoy or I'll make sure you'll be living without them the rest of your life!"

Boot retreated, being terrified of Potter. He couldn't take his eyes off the two wands targeted on him. Draco shivered with relief and allowed himself to sit down on the stone floor.

"You want me to bring this subject to Dumbledore, or do you want me to deal with you now in person?" Harry asked Boot, observing the Ravenclaw like a murderous lion. 

Terry swallowed loudly. A couple of sweat pearls emerged on his forehead and his legs seemed not to carry him anymore. Harry thought he looked very sordid and sickening with his trouser zipper open. _Really_ sickening.

"Never you mind, Boot. I will deal with you now."

Terry shook his head frantically, retreating backwards along the aisle. He was scared of Harry's eyes that were like two oceans of emerald fire.

"Harry… Please…" 

Harry shook his head slowly and scornfully. He threw the other wand back to Draco, whose seeker reflexes caught it elegantly in the midair.

"Let's find out what Malfoy feels like doing to you, shall we?"

Terry went even more pallid, if possible. "Oh, okay… Let's calm down a bit!" he stammered, remembering Draco's reputation as an undercover dark wizard. "Draco, I know you're angry with me. So… eh, kick or hit me. Yes, hit me! Come on. One good swing. I know you want to."

Draco's cheeks were ablaze with odd heat. He got up to his feet and raised his both brows. "One good swing, eh?"

Terry felt his blood freeze.

"Do you mind if I use two wands?" Draco indifferently asked. Potter gave him his own, without questioning.

"Er, Harry's wand may not work well in your hands, you know, Draco. Wrong kind of wands can cause severe…"

_"Cruciatus Celer Evanidus!"_

Two fiery shots erupted from the wands, as bright and orange as a violent sunset. They hit Terry Boot with a power so remarkable that the boy flew on his back on the floor, roaring heart-brokenly for several seconds. His body twisted and turned, like a snake without a head. Harry almost covered his ears, but then the horrible screaming stopped; the magic vanished and a frightful silence conquered the third floor aisle. Boot was lying immovable on the floor. 

Harry slowly let his head turn to Draco's direction. Draco's expression was unreadable and cold. Harry suddenly remembered why he had hated Malfoy all these years.

"Did you just fucking kill him?"

Draco raised his eyes at Harry. They were unresponsive, like steel.

"What do you think?"

Harry didn't know what to say. He really didn't know what to think.

Luckily, a silent moan from Terry's direction interrupted the awkward moment. The boy rolled on his other side, holding his chest. Harry saw his eyes were filled with tears, his mouth twisted in a horrible grim. Yet he was perfectly capable of rising up, capable of breathing, capable of standing evenly.

Terry cast one horrified glance at Draco Malfoy. Then he turned around and ran stumbling away, as fast as he could. Harry listened to the echo of Terry's boots, not moving, not saying a word, until the silence was complete again.

"Malfoy," he finally inhaled, reaching out his hand. 

"Yes?" Draco replied callously, giving the wand back to Harry.

"That was Dark Magic."

"Of course it was Dark Magic."

Harry couldn't understand how Draco could be so calm. 

"That was Cruciatus!"

"Of course it was Cruciatus."

Harry was shocked beyond description.

"It was a tender type, though," Draco added, when seeing Harry's face.

The late afternoon sun made Draco's blank expression look unreal. Harry thought he looked like a pretty porcelain doll, although with a long gash across the cheekbone, shimmering dark with blood. His heart melted as he was privileged to observe such terrible beauty.

Carefully he went to Draco and drew him closer. He was allowed to enfold his arms around the broken doll.

"You need Pomfrey?" 

Draco shook his head, wiping a strain of red serum away from his lips. "No, I've gotten used to this lately."

Harry smiled. He knew Draco was referring to their own arguments that had gone a bit out of the limits recently. He kissed the Slytherin gently, still tasting fresh blood. Draco answered his kiss with unexpected zealousness, pulling Harry closer from the back of the head. He was very violent, despite the cut on his lip.

"Feisty, eh?" Harry mumbled against Draco's mouth, pulling the shirt out of Draco's already open trousers.

"You have a problem with that?" Draco asked raucously, conducting Harry softly against the wall.

"Mmh, actually no…" Harry surrendered.

Draco flashed a crafty smile. Then he hauled Harry around, so that the Gryffindor's cheek was pressed against the cold wall. Roughly, he ripped Harry's robes down.

Harry breathed rapidly. "You know, Malfoy, I just thought about you and me between the sheets when I walked back here from Hogsmeade. But I guess I can do without the sheets, as well..."

"How did you really find here, Potter?" Draco asked, tugging Harry's trousers down.

"I have my secret passageways," Harry smiled.

Draco breathed in Harry's hair and met the boy's erection with challenging hands. Harry moaned and closed his eyes. Draco seemed to know exactly how to make him crazy. Then he felt Draco pressing up to his buttocks, and panicked.

"Malfoy… I haven't…"

"Hush, Potter. I know you haven't."

However, as if not considering this fact anyhow meaningful, Draco proceeded strictly inside, making Harry yell with unusual kind of ache. 

"Don't fucking whine, Potter, the pain will pass."

Draco held Harry's body in place by pulling the boy's raven locks and keeping his other hand firmly around Harry's erection. He made ferocious love to Harry, without tender kisses, without smoothing touches. Harry could do nothing but to accept, since he was too frightened to protest. Besides, it began to feel strangely good after a while.

"We haven't got much time," Draco exhaled brokenly. "If Terry goes and tells somebody what I did."

"Mmmh… No, he isn't going to tell anyone. You saw his face," Harry uttered, starting to feel ecstatic. Malfoy's hand felt so good, and so did his thrusts.

"I could get expelled from Hogwarts, you know. Dark Magic isn't allowed in here."

Harry moaned out loud with pleasure when Draco's pushes and wrist movements became more rapid. "I… I promise I won't let them expel you, M-Malfoy…"

Draco bit Harry's neck and tasted his warm skin. "You won't let them?" 

"Aahh… No…"

Draco took Harry a little further from the wall and forced him to bend slightly. This position allowed new, wonderful heat run inside Harry. 

"Tell me, Potter, who is whose bitch now?"

"Oh, no… Oh, no… Malfoy… Mmmgh…"

Harry couldn't last any longer. He shuddered when the waves of pleasure held his body in their merciless clutch for several seconds. He curled against the wall, pressing his brows together, clenching his fists. He tried to breathe, but gasping was all he managed.

Draco smiled contently and pulled away. He had not come himself, but that hadn't been his intention either. It just wasn't in his nature to release his emotions in front of somebody else, as uncontrollably as it always was with an orgasm. He had never made it till the end with a partner, and wasn't going to start with Potter, either.

"You know, I could get used to this," he grinned. "Daily quickies with Harry Potter. Doesn't sound bad at all."

Harry leaned his back against Draco's chest, feebly closing his eyes. "Whatever you say, Malfoy… Whatever you say…"

"Harry?" 

It was Ron. 

"Harry, are you awake?"

Harry opened his eyes slightly, meeting his best friend's worried eyes. "Yes… I'm awake."

"What are you slouching in the common room couch for? Why not your own soft bed?"

"Mmh… I had no energy to climb up the stairs."

Ron pulled Harry up and sat next to him. He observed his friend very carefully. "Harry?"

"Yes?"

"We need to talk."

…TBC…


	13. Explanations

A/N: This chapter explains things a bit deeper… 

**13. Explanations**

Harry and Ron were sitting together in their dormitory room, on Harry's bed. They had shooed the other boys away, explaining that there were some very serious matters to discuss. And obligingly, Dean and Neville had left after Seamus, starting a Gobstones game in the common room.

"Hermione is with Lavender right now, in their bedroom. She's trying to explain her why you dumped her, even though she has no better picture of it than I do," Ron began.

Harry looked sad.

"You must admit that your behaviour has been a bit out of limits, lately. You've been so distant… so aggressive… I'm really worried about you, Harry. Is the Dark Lord getting near with his troops?" Ron continued, slight panic in his voice.

"Ron, what you must understand is that this... behaviour... this has nothing to do with Lord Voldemort. And yet…" Harry furrowed his brows. "This has eventually everything to do with him."

Ron looked both puzzled and terrified.

"The reason why I've been acting so strangely… so violently… it has to do with my love-life, which has been pretty non-existent, until now… and because of Voldemort, it has been so non-existent in the first place…"

"Harry, do you realize there was no sense whatsoever in what you just said," pointed out Ron.

Harry sighed. "This a really complicated matter, Ron. I can't bring it into words, I guess."

"But it's important that you even try, Harry," Ron said, pressing his hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm here to listen. I've always been here to listen. Don't bother your mind with the fact that I may not understand every word. Just… talk, okay?"

Harry nodded. "Thanks, Ron…" 

Harry knew he had to talk to somebody. He had to pour the inners of his heart out, before they could crack him up. And who would be a better listener than Ron? Who would be more understanding? However, even with Ron, Harry felt he could not be completely honest with what it came to this particular problem. But he could at least try to relieve his mind, by telling at least something.

"I will begin with a little story," Harry finally said. 

"That's nice," Ron smiled. "Go ahead."

"It begins with a Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, last spring. The two seekers had a good time together, only half-heartedly trying to catch the Snitch. Well, of course the Gryffindor seeker won the game in the end. But the game itself wasn't that hard. It was… very nice."

Here Ron smiled, imagining a Harry who would not play Quidditch seriously.

Harry grinned and continued. "Later that same day, as the game was over, the Ravenclaw seeker came to congratulate the Gryffindor seeker. She found him in the library. She took his hand and led him into her dormitory room."

"You have been in Cho Chang's dormitory room?" Ron asked, eyes wide open with surprise. "And you never told me!"

"Ron… Listen to what I have to say. There's a reason why I haven't told anybody."

"Okay," Ron shrugged. Then he grinned deviously, "Did you do it?"

Harry gave him a lopsided smile. "Yes, we did it."

Ron's jaw nearly hit the floor with amazement. Harry held the urge to punch him for the expression. 

"Bloody hell, Harry! You and Cho… in our fifth year… And you never told me!"

"Ron, listen…"

"I can't believe it! But, of course, you are Harry Potter. It's only natural you got the chance to do it earlier than any of your friends!"

"That didn't sound nice, Ron."

"Sorry. But really, Harry…"

"Stop it, Ron. Probably your next question is why we never started dating?"

Ron swallowed, noticing how very grave Harry's expression was.

Harry's voice was raw when he continued. "For your information, just when we were at it, Cho began to cry and sob, mumbling Cedric Diggory's name."

Ron's face twisted. "She did not."

"She did. And I just say, it was really embarrassing, for both of us. And here's how Voldemort has got to do with this matter. In addition to killing my parents, and spoiling my childhood and many other things, he also destroyed my love life."

Ron couldn't find anything to say.

"It was a really hard emotional shock for me, Ron. You know how much I always fancied Cho."

Ron still was lost for words, but nodded.

"We ended up being friends, however. After a while, Cho wanted to try again, but I refused. I didn't want to be a second option. Not even when the first was dead. And I was very depressed… Very depressed…"

Ron patted Harry's back, trying to make him feel better. Harry bit his lip and inhaled deeply.

"Since Cho, I have been unable to attach myself to anybody. I simply lost my feelings. I thought I could never love anybody with passion. Everybody would date me only because I was the fucking famous Harry Potter, and I would date everybody just because I was the fucking famous Harry Potter. But I dated no-one. I didn't want to take such advantage of my annoying celebrity. And now… I think even Cho wanted to date me after Cedric, because she would have gained some more attention being with me."

"Well, if it helps at all, I'm really glad you didn't start dating Cho," Ron put in the middle. "She really is popular enough. She likes to be the centre of admiration. And if being with you… She would've been intolerable."

"In any case, I thought I would never learn to love somebody in the same way you now love Hermione. You know, passionately. Craziness conquering reason."

"Eh…" Ron was somewhat ashamed, although he did not know why.

"This is how I felt, until something happened," Harry continued, ignoring Ron's discomfort. "Something happened that made me emotional again. Ron… I… I met somebody… Or rather, I saw somebody in a completely new light."

Ron smiled. "You mean Lavender?"

"No, not Lavender," Harry smiled weirdly. His eyes turned distant and gleaming. His expression made Ron's hair stand up.

"Harry? Sorry, but… you scare the shit out of me with that face."

Harry's green emeralds turned vivid again. "Sorry, Ron."

"So… You fell for someone. But you started to date Lavender, instead. Why?"

"It's really complicated."

"I'm in no hurry…"

Harry sighed and gave a bit nervous smile. "Alright." 

For some moments, he gathered his words, and then began. His voice was soft and silky, yet determined. 

"The story begins with a Quidditch match, again. This time between Gryffindor and Slytherin."

"Slytherin?" Ron asked, looking dismayed with the thought.

"Yes. Now… The two seekers were having horrible time together. They fought for the Snitch seriously, full-heartedly, with an angry passion. And this time, the Gryffindor seeker did not win the game."

Ron scowled. "You're talking about the latest game."

"Yes, well… After that game, the Gryffindor seeker was very shocked. He felt ill for several days."

"Imagine that," Ron huffed.

"However, little by little this ill feeling turned to anger. To hate. To disgust. To fury. The Gryffindor seeker felt so furious that he found it hard to control himself. He ranted and raved many days, causing trouble to himself and others. But as this fury gnawed the seeker's inners, it surprisingly freed his heart. It reminded the seeker that there were still emotions in his heart. Strong emotions. Perhaps feelings capable of taking over the reason. Capable of creating even passion."

"And that's why you started to date Lavender!" Ron interrupted. "You wanted to learn to love again, after Cho."

"Er, well, not exactly. Remember the Somebody Else I mentioned earlier?"

"Oh, right," Ron nodded, slightly abashed.

"Now… This Somebody Else was very attractive, very beautiful and very clever. But also very… very… Hmm. Let's say very Un-Gryffindor."

"Un-Gryffindor?"

"Yeah. Like representing different values than the Gryffindor house."

"Ah."

"In any case… The Gryffindor seeker hated himself for letting such an irritable spark get under his skin. He wanted to do anything to get rid of his bizarre feelings. Improper feelings, even. And that's why the seeker started to date someone other."

"So you started dating Lavender because you wanted to forget your feelings towards this somebody who was not worth your feelings?"

"Yeah, guess that's pretty much it."

"You know, mate, you're really twisted, sometimes. And you certainly caused Lavender pain she didn't deserve. You were pretty selfish and cruel, you know."

"Oh, I know… And I hate myself for that. But Ron, I really tried to like her. Really tried. But… It just didn't work out. I had to break up with her. Especially after yesterday, when… eh… nothing." Harry bit his lip again. He had slipped out too much.

"Harry?" Ron asked suspiciousness in his eyes. "What exactly happened last night? You sure as hell didn't go for a night time stroll, that's plain bullshit."

Harry flushed. "Er, actually, I did."

"But the Slytherin dungeons! What did you go there for?"

Harry felt really awkward. He hated lying to his friend. "Listen, Ron, could we discuss about this some other time. I'm tired and…"

"No! We could not! I want to know now!"

Harry shrivelled his brows. "Alright, if you insist! I went to check out some Slytherin space, so what about it?"

"What about it! You are a Gryffindor, and Harry Potter at that. No Gryffindor goes down to the dungeons, in the middle of the night, just for a night-time stroll," Ron sermonized. 

"You don't need to understand, Ron. I will tell you when I'm ready. Is that okay with you?"

Harry thought Lucius Malfoy had once been right when saying the Weasleys' expressions could sometimes be considered beckoned. 

"Um, I guess I can't turn your head," Ron twisted his mouth.

"No, you can't."

Ron shrugged. "Okay… You'll tell me when you're ready. But… there's one thing that I'd still like to know. I can't figure it out, no matter how hard I try."

"And what's that?"

"Who's this mysterious Somebody Else? Millicent Bulstrode?"

"Lord, no!" Harry gasped with indignation. "Sorry, Ron. I'm not ready to tell you yet."

"Why not? I'm supposed to be your best friend, remember?" Ron said, sulking.

Harry gave Ron a warning glare. "I said I am not ready to tell."

Sighing, Ron yielded and returned to his own bed. "Good night, then…"

Harry buried himself under blankets and closed his eyes. "Good night, Ron. Happy dreams."

_Oh, Malfoy… I can't believe I let you do this to me…Because of you, I am terrible towards my friends. Why oh why did I ever fall in your trap…?_

It was twilight. Draco Malfoy stood in the middle of the empty Quidditch field, practising fencing with his beautiful sabre. He swung it gracefully trough the damp and misty air, challenging an invisible enemy. The rays of sun were rapidly fading, sparkling orange and pink from the blade of the weapon. 

_I can't believe Boot actually went that far! He actually tried to rape me! __Damn, and he nearly succeeded…_

Draco swayed the head off from his non-existent opponent.

_Why can't that ruddy Ravenclaw just leave me alone? Ever since our first Quidditch match in the fifth year, he's been intolerably annoying and intrusive. He's been trying to bounce on me for so long… Why can't he fucking believe I'm not interested? Shit… what a cocksucker…_

Draco got a frantic gleam in his silver eyes and furiously attacked an imagined Terry Boot, slicing the boy's arms off.

_First, Boot began to spy on me. Especially every time I was taking a shower after our Quidditch practise. _Draco shuddered with the thought. _Then he began to steal my clothes and other things… To be near me, as he said… I mean, how thick can one get? And then the pictures… He started to take pictures of me… _

The invisible Boot lost his both legs, as well as got his heart lanced.

_And I never gave you any reason to believe that I could be gay! Damn right I didn't, noticing how dense you were! You never understood I didn't want you. You never gave up… And then the love letter… _Draco felt sick. _It was so pathetic… And I can't possibly stand pathetic people…_

Draco stopped the movements of the sabre, in order to take a breath. His white hair fell over his eyes, absorbing the last beams of the orange sun. 

_Potter… I have absolutely no idea how you came to be there when I most needed someone… needed you…Yes… I needed only you…_

Draco's expression turned resentful. _Fuck, don't get all squashy now, Draco! Malfoy's don't get squashy!_

A lonely, late butterfly fluttered in front of Draco, trying to find shelter for the approaching night. It was a maroon small tortoiseshell. Draco gave it one quick look before his blade swung once more.

Four maroon wings fluttered apart from each other, falling to the ground like dead autumn leaves.

…TBC…


	14. Evil Games

**14. Evil Games**

Sunday opened bright and fair. Draco Malfoy, the infamous Slytherin seeker, marched towards the Quidditch pitch with rapid steps. Eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun, he looked vicious and infuriated. There was an aura of sparkling hatred around him. The soft, blonde locks waved easily in the wind, encircling the pale and icy face with angelical tenderness, whereas the steely, grey eyes could have killed with one look only. The green Quidditch robes fit his muscular form elegantly, however enhancing also his capability of delivering serious physical damage. Several younger students, mostly girls, jumped frightened away from his course, terrified of his murderous air. They could almost hear the seeker hiss and fizz like a horned viper. It was time for the match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw.

The rest of the Slytherin team followed their captain close behind. They were acting like a herd of pissed-off Hydras, expressions nearly as resentful as Malfoy's. Their green robes rustled heatedly in the wind, making the group look like a rapidly approaching tide of killing venom. The beaters, Bole and Warrington, had received extra instructions that morning to crush the head of a certain Ravenclaw chaser, Terry Boot. They did not know the reason, but did not ask it either; they were only too happy to carry out such a mischievous mission. The air was full of excited rumble from the stands.

Just as the Slytherin team reached the door of their tactics room, Malfoy felt a harsh grab on the back of his collar, which demanded him aside. Irritated and highly poisonous, he turned to look at the insolent bastard who dared to touch his high-quality shirt with hopefully-not mud-blooded fingers. And he came across with the scowling green eyes of Harry Potter.

"I want a word, Malfoy," the Gryffindor boy smiled wickedly, looking deeply in the surprised, grey eyes of the Slytherin.

Draco yanked himself off of Potter's grasp and straightened his robes. Without breaking the eye contact with Harry, he addressed his team. "Go ahead. I'll join you in a minute." 

From the corners of their eyes, both boys could see the knowing smirks of the players, except for the gobsmacked Malcolm Baddock. When they were left alone, Malfoy sharpened his gaze and folded his arms defiantly.

"So, what do you want, Potter? I thought I wouldn't need to tell you that we're not about to become best friends or anything, if that's what you're thinking. I still hate you."

Harry only smiled that wicked smile. "No, that's not why I'm here. I'm well aware that nobody can become friends with you at any level, Malfoy. Because, in addition to the fact that you're one sufferable frigging asshole in general, you're also emotionally handicapped. You wouldn't know a friendly word if it came waltzing down the Divination tower stairs wearing Pansy's pink evening dress. And even if you somehow happened to even _suspect _that it could be something else than a sneering word, you'd probably jump out of the tower window, scared to death that you might encounter the feeling of _liking _something."

Draco scowled. "I would _not_ jump out of the window. That would look just stupid."

Harry shook his head and gave a little laugh, eyes twinkling with amusement. "I know. Always so refined, Malfoy."

"Yeah, unlike you and your hair!" Draco actually almost returned the smile. "And why are you wearing those awful glasses again?"

"Hermione thought I looked weird without them."

"You look weird _with_ them. Take them off."

But before Harry could move a finger, Draco had already flung them away with a neat gesture, and shoved them in Harry's chest pocket. Sighing contentedly, he returned his sharp eyes at Harry.

"Now, what's the reason you're here? This kind of public encounters can be very… dangerous."

"And you think our _other_ encounters are _less_ dangerous?" Harry purred seductively, leaning closer to Draco.

Draco didn't retreat but his voice came a bit shaky. "Potter, you must be mad. Glance around and look where we are."

Luckily, the field around the pitch was nearly empty, let alone two Ravenclaw students hurrying towards the already-full stands.

"Scared, Malfoy?" Harry whispered, his breaths caressing Malfoy's cheek. 

"Mmh… No, Potter, I'm not scared. But the game starts in ten minutes. I don't think I have the time to shag you right now."

"Did I ask you to?" Harry's voice was like honeyed mercury. "No… I came to give you… an _aide memoire_."

Then, without further explanations, Harry claimed Draco's lips forcefully, pressing the Slytherin hard against himself. He opened his way to Draco's mouth with an eager tongue, making the other boy mewl with sudden pleasure. Draco couldn't do anything but surrender, since Harry locked his arms behind his back and pushed him against the green-canvassed wall with his full body. But, after only ten seconds, the raven-haired lion retreated, as quickly as he had started it all. 

He smiled at Malfoy's ruffled hair and moist lips, and laughed the confused expression of the silvery eyes. "Good luck for the game, babe. Hope you lose."

Tickling Draco slightly from under the chin, Harry Potter turned on his heel and walked coldly away.

Harry rose up the stairs to the Gryffindor stand, replacing the glasses over his nose. He was feeling a bit odd about the day's game, since the two opponent seekers would be the only two persons who had ever captured a bit of his heart: Cho Chang and Draco Malfoy. Harry twisted his mouth cheerfully when thinking about the irony of the situation, especially when Lavender Brown would be sitting but five meters from him, and Terry Boot would be playing as the Ravenclaw chaser.

"Hey, Harry!" greeted Hermione, smiling like seven suns at Ron's side. "We were almost worried that you'd be late."

"Hey 'Mione. Ron, Dean, Neville, Seamus." Harry nodded to everyone. "Lavender."

The blonde girl didn't smile or nod back, only icily glared at him, raising her pretty nose up towards the sky. Harry shrugged and turned away, noticing that she was waving a little Slytherin flag between her knees. Harry almost shook his head with disbelief when seeing how childish Lavender was. Rolling his eyes, he took out his omnioculars and sat next to Seamus Finnigan.

"Brought your omnioculars, Harry?" asked the Irish boy, leaning closer to take a better look of them. "Those are really cool."

"Yeah. They come in handy, you know, when I intend to take an extra good look at Malfoy," Harry replied casually.

"Sure you do, after what happened last Sunday," Seamus understood. "You must follow his every movement very closely."

"That's what I plan to do," Harry seriously stated, however smiling inwardly.

"He's a strategy shifter," Seamus continued, wanting to show some expertise in Quidditch, because his dearest wish was to become a beater the following year.

"I know he's a strategy shifter, Seamus. I've played against him five and half years!"

"Of course," Seamus said hastily. "You must know his moves very well."

"Hmmh, not so _very_ well, actually. At least not _all _his moves. But then again, I happen to know he's tailored a completely unique strategy when it comes to playing with me," Harry continued. Then he grinned at the double meaning of his sentence.

"Suppose he does. You are, after all, the only one to give him some real rush of blood and adrenaline."

Harry tried to suffocate a flush that was trying to creep on his cheekbones, and snorted.

"The game begins!" informed Neville. "Go Ravenclaw!"

Draco Malfoy walked over to the pitch with his team, still somewhat dazed after Potter's heated attack. He tried to bark his mind back to the normal tracks, back to the game. And, he tried his best to forget about the gorgeous Gryffindor boy who happened to make his stomach twinge in a new, annoying, very un-Malfoyish way.

Slowly, the whistles and shouts from the stands hit his reality, making him recollect his usual, arrogant expression. Elegantly he steered his team in the middle of the grass field and shook hands with the Ravenclaw captain and seeker, Cho Chang. Even more elegantly, he cast a ready-to-kill glance at Terry Boot who was squirming in the background, looking like somebody had just shoved an entire broomstick up his arse.

Madam Hooch started the game after first reminding that she wanted a nice, clean game. Her words were mostly targeted on the Slytherins, who immediately turned their faces completely innocent-looking. The Snitch was released. The Bludgers were released. And finally, the Quaffle was out.

Malfoy kicked off in the air as noiselessly as a snowy owl. Without wasting time, he exchanged meaningful looks with Warrington and Bole, who immediately went after Terry Boot. Then he searched Cho Chang in his view. She was flying across the southern end of the pitch, already keenly seeking for the Snitch.

_This should be an easy game. Chang's not been so good lately. Not after last spring, really. But that's nothing to complain about, really, is it? _

The next moment, Malfoy was granted with the sight of a harsh Bludger hitting Terry Boot on the shoulder, most likely breaking bones. 

_Good job, __Warrington__! That's just what I ordered…_

Draco circled gracefully around the crying Ravenclaw chaser and gave him a wicked smile, reminding him of his dreadful mistake of messing up with the Heir of the ever-feared Malfoy family. Then Draco retreated rapidly, out of the way of a second Bludger that hit Terry straight on the stomach. 

"Slytherin plays unfair!" shouted Lee Jordan, with his _sonorous_-enhanced voice. "They're trying to eliminate Boot from the game!"

The stands whistled and booed. Raising a silvery eyebrow at the crowds, Malfoy allowed a trickle of smile caress the corner of his mouth. He knew that at least one raven-haired Gryffindor understood.

"The game's been going only for two minutes and Boot is already out!" informed Lee Jordan. "However, the show must go on! No time-outs! And Baddock steals the Quaffle!"

Malfoy was satisfied with the situation. Now that the main purpose of the game had been reached, he lazily thought of going after the Snitch. Yawning, he plunged a few meters downwards, glancing over the pitch. And then he saw it. The Golden Snitch. And it was coming directly towards him, flying with a hurried speed.

"What the…?"

Draco stretched out his hand and caught the glimmering orb, easily wrapping his leather-covered fingers around it. The time of miracles clearly wasn't over. For the first time in his life, he'd caught the spluttering ball without even chasing it. It had smashed like a neatly targeted baseball directly in his mitt.

"We did manage to break you with Potter, didn't we?" Draco asked, glaring at the Snitch suspiciously and poking it with a finger. Then he raised both of its wings in turn, like a doctor, however finding no real damage.

"Draco Malfoy has caught the Snitch. Again," Lee Jordan's half-disappointed voice echoed around the pitch. "Slytherin wins Ravenclaw with one hundred and fifty points." 

Malfoy shrugged and held out the Snitch for everybody to see. He was still slightly amazed about how easy the game had eventually been. But Slytherin was leading the house championship, and that was all that mattered. 

Lee Jordan's voice continued. "Also, today's game has been the shortest in Hogwarts' history: two minutes and twenty-seven seconds. Malfoy makes a new record."

Draco allowed himself to smile. He plunged his Firebolt downwards, and his team members formed a notorious, V-shaped league behind him. Ah, the finesse of it all… But after all, it was a common fact that the Slytherin team was nice to look at.

Because the Quidditch game had been so short, it meant that there were two hours of free time before the lunch. Hermione and Ron decided to go for a romantic walk about the lakeside. They looked at each other like two immensely love-struck pigeons before exiting the common room, and Harry whimpered a silent 'ew'. But then, Harry started to wonder if he and Draco would ever look like that. So much in love… Harry shook the idea off rapidly, considering it repulsive. Loveliness just wouldn't suit the two of them at all. For Harry and Draco, it had to be pure passion, not roses and poems. 

Harry decided he would never allow himself fall in love with Malfoy, not under any circumstances. Besides, Harry didn't even really know what real love felt like; a love which wasn't platonic. He hadn't been in love with Cho, obviously. It had been only a teenage crush. But real love… Would it be like wondering hand in hand into the sunset for a lifetime of pure bliss and eternal harmony? Harry grimaced at the thought. He had got used to much different treatment, and it was late for him to want anything fluffy anymore. And Draco Malfoy definitely would not give him anything considered either fluffy or lovable. Shaking his head, Harry turned to write a letter to his confidant, Remus Lupin.

_Dear Remus,_

_Sorry I haven't written in such a long time. There's been a lot going on in my mind. _

Here Harry stopped the writing. What to tell the werewolf? 'Hey, I've been busy with exploring my sexuality and having wild animal sex with Draco Malfoy.' Er… Not quite the information Lupin would want to receive. No. It was better to keep the letter formal, no matter how much Harry wanted to tell somebody what was really going on. He smoothed his lips with the feather of the quill and continued writing.

_You know, just some ordinary teenage stuff. School and snogging. The Halloween was really fun, there was this masquerade and all, and I got very drunk. You should've seen my face in the morning. But I guess you can imagine. _

_Well, enough of that. How are you doing? Are you still here in __Scotland__? Nobody really tells me anything, but I've understood that you are a leading member of the Auror team that is searching the northern islands for any dark military movements. Just… Be careful. Voldemort isn't any Muggle cartoon overlord. Sadly,  I can't tell you anything about the Dark Lord. My __scar hasn't been hurting that much, if not a little weak twinge every now and then. _

_I'm looking forward to seeing you before the winter. If you have time, you could visit me here after the exam week. _

_~Harry_

Harry folded the letter and tied it with a red ribbon. Hedwig was already waiting to deliver it. 

There was an exceptionally weird lunch waiting for the students in the Great Hall that day. Large bowls of dark brown rye pudding and sickeningly green pea soup, plates of black blood sausage and raw salmon, and vases of cold Baltic herring were filling the tables. Also the traditional pumpkin juice was replaced with cans of some piss-looking liquid called mead. Loud protesting could be heard from every table, since the day's menu wasn't exactly inviting. Harry amusedly noticed how Malfoy pushed his plate far away, looking at it as if it would've been some highly contaminating object.

"What's this all supposed to mean?" huffed Ron, poking the dead little phlegmatic herring on his plate. "Are we honestly expected to _eat_ this?"

"This is the traditional menu of the Durmstrang Institute," informed Hermione, sounding proud. "Today we celebrate the school's 500th birthday, and Headmaster Dumbledore wanted to give us some intercultural experience by allowing us to taste the specialities of our neighbour academy."

"And I always wondered how Viktor Krum looked so sour. No miracle, if he's been eating this stuff all his life…" muttered Ron.

"Don't be so prejudiced, darling," Hermione laughed. "I, for one, am very excited about this opportunity to get to know other gastronomic delicacies than egg and beans."

Harry laughed. "Alright, Hermione, get on with it, then."

Raising her chin proudly, Hermione gathered a spoonful of rye pudding and placed it between her teeth. Harry and Ron watched at her keenly, waiting for some reaction.

They were granted with Hermione spitting the poo-looking mass out of her mouth, looking extremely ill. 

"So much of the intercultural gastronomic experiences, then," Ron guffawed at his girlfriend, giving her a handkerchief.

"Hey, it's the mail," noticed Harry, raising his eyes towards the ceiling where dozens of owls soared through the air towards the tables.

The hall immediately cheered up, the students reaching to catch the letters and packets their owls dropped in their laps. Harry wasn't surprised that Hedwig wasn't among the other birds, since he'd send her away for Lupin justs an hour ago. Instead, a shining grey eagle owl landed on his plate, spreading its massive wings around Harry's face before gaining the poise. Then it raised its other foot, where a cream-coloured envelope was attached.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" cried Ron, leaning back in his chair. "That is _Malfoy's__ owl!" _

The eagle owl turned its sharp eyes towards the redhead and snapped its peak threateningly. Ron gulped. 

"Well, it seems like Malfoy's taught it well. The bird's as insolent as he himself," Harry grinned and began to detach the envelope from the bird's leg. 

"Don't touch it! Don't open it!" yelped Hermione.

Now the whole Gryffindor table, as well as the other tables, were curiously looking at Harry and the eagle owl. Harry took a quick glance at Malfoy and saw the Slytherin look very confused and angry.

"Don't worry, Hermione, it's not from Malfoy," he said, and let the bird put its leg down. "Somebody's just joking."

"How can you know?" asked Colin Creevey, who'd come to take a picture of the unusual event. "What if the letter's hexed?"

"Look, why would Draco Malfoy send me a hexed letter, in the middle of a bright sunny day, with his own damned owl, the Great Hall full of teachers and students witnessing the whole occasion, and looking like he'd eaten a rotten cucumber? No. Somebody's just borrowed his owl."

The eagle owl spread its enormous wings again and shot in the air, a nice piece of fresh herring in its peak. 

"Alright, then who _did_ send it to you?" asked Seamus, trying to peer over the table at the letter in Harry's hand. 

Harry was sure the whole table suspected it to be a love-letter from Malfoy. "If you don't mind, guys, I'd like to read it first on my own. Colin, would you please return to your seat?"

The photographer obeyed, however keeping still a keen eye on his idol, like did the other students in the hall. Harry took the envelope closer to his chest, carefully breaking the signet and opening it. He tried to cover the letter as best as he could when peering inside the envelope. 

One look only and he was flushed from ears to toes.

_Oh, shit… This can't be true… Good Lord…_

Holding the envelope ajar, Harry had a full view over one certain moving photograph of himself and Draco Malfoy. 

_Gracious Merlin… It looks… It looks… Oh, fuck…_

Harry goggled at the picture in a daze. He had no idea who'd taken it, since the Slytherin dungeon had been very shadowy, not forgetting that he'd been very drunk. However, he was now holding in his hands a picture where he was kissing Draco Malfoy. Kissing? Not nearly. It looked more like as if Malfoy would have been the prey of a lion that'd been without food about a thousand years. 

Harry saw himself thrusting a hand in Malfoys delicate locks, pulling the boy greedily against his mouth. He saw Malfoy look surprised but eventually enthralled, almost surrendered. He saw their tongues touching in mutual passion, twining into a devoted, French kiss. 

"Well? What does it say, Harry?" Ron asked, curiosity oozing from his voice.

Harry jumped in the air with fright, grasping the letter tightly against his heart. "Erm. Wait just a minute, Ron."

Harry had seen a piece of parchment attached to the back of the photograph, and now he pulled it out. 

_~This was the most beautiful thing we've ever seen. Thank you, Harry!~_

_ Blaise, __Montague, Justin, __Wayne__, Etre, Lisa, Tracey, Mary-Ann, Pansy, Crabbe, Su, Millicent, Goyle, __Warrington__, Bole…_

"Well? Tell us already!" Hermione squealed, touching Harry's forearm across the table. "You look like you've received a love-letter from Malfoy after all!"

"Ummgh," Harry swallowed, hastily pocketing the parchment and the envelope. "It wasn't from anyone special…"

"Yeah right!" cried Seamus, almost jumping from his seat. "Bet it was from Malfoy!"

"Actually, it really was not," Harry flushed. "It was, ahem, a thank-you letter from, um, someone to whom I, er, gave a gift last Halloween."

Ron's eyes flashed with a sudden idea. "It's from the Someone Else, isn't it?" he whispered to Harry's ear. 

Harry decided it was the easiest way to get rid of the subject by agreeing with Ron. Therefore, he nodded to his friend, and asked him to keep it quiet. Ron gave him a friendly punch on the ribs and grinned widely. 

"It was from a secret admirer," he informed the fellow Gryffindors. "Let's not tease Harry about it."

And surely, before anybody could say a thing more, Harry leaped over the bench and escaped the Great Hall.

Sunday turned shadowy and the night approached. Draco Malfoy strode towards the Owelry, wanting to send his father, Lucius, a reply. He'd made it very short; it wasn't the Malfoy style to blabber and digress.

_Father,_

_I expect you all to arrive on Thursday afternoon. _

_I have arranged a free weekend for Hailie's birthday._

_Draco_

Walking up the last steps, Draco pushed the heavy door open. He blinked a couple of times, adjusting his eyes to the darkness. Then he stepped inside, careful not to make any noise to disturb the owls. 

The Owelry was a huge attic room, the ceiling high above Draco's head. Dozens of rafters encircled the colossal space at different levels, bending with the weight of the sleeping owls. However, most of the birds were now waking up, getting ready for their nightly hunting trips. The smell in the room was nearly unbearable for Draco, whose nose was as delicate as his Wizard Armani shoes.

"Nocens, come here," Draco commanded with a smooth voice. 

A silvery eagle owl immediately descended from one of the highest balks, landing on Draco's shoulder. Draco smiled at it lovingly when it gently bit his ear.

"Don't do that, Nocens. Father would not like it if he saw," he purred at the massive bird, smoothing the shimmering feathers on its back. "So… How did you like Harry Potter?"

The eagle owl gave a screech, ruffling its neck feathers. Draco laughed.

"Scary, that one, isn't he? Didn't fear you at all."

Draco took out the letter and attached it to Nocens' ankle.

"Watch your talons, darling, you're quite ruining my cloak. Now, get this message to my father immediately."

Giving one last stroke over the eagle owl's silky back, he sent the bird out into the night.

"How sweet, Malfoy. You're not as cold-hearted as I thought, after all."

Draco spun around, meeting Harry Potter's smiling figure at the doorway. He sighed with relief and annoyance.

"Potter? What the fuck are you doing up here?"

"Hmm… I thought I should show you what your dear Nocens delivered me today."

Draco scowled at the Gryffindor, remembering the awkward situation in the Great Hall. "Who was it? Who borrowed him?"

"Um, I really can't tell you. They were so many."

Raising his dark grey eyebrows, Draco walked over to Harry, closing the Owelry door behind. "Well, let's not hear the story in this stinking bedroom of birds, Potter. I'd rather like a stroll outside on the roof. Care to join?"

"On the roof?" Harry asked curiously.

"No, on Snape's ruddy desk, of course! Are you coming or not? I'd hate it if somebody saw us talking this civilly to each other."

"Let alone me fucking the living daylights out of you, as I plan to do pretty soon," muttered Harry, smirking devilishly.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing of consequence," Harry played innocent. "Please, lead the way, Malfoy."

Draco guided Harry along an aisle that ran in line with the Owelry. They seemed to be heading towards a dead end, but Harry didn't want to point it out. Instead, he followed Draco silently, until they were in front of a huge, old-looking mirror. Draco smirked at Harry, and raised his hand to arrange one wild lock of white hair, before stepping trough the silvery surface. His curiosity growing, Harry followed suit.

"Whee! a secret passageway that isn't on the Marauder's Map," the Gryffindor was impressed.

"Excuse me?" Draco turned to look at Harry as if he'd been speaking plain gibberish. "What's the Marauder's Map?"

Harry gave him an affectionate stroke over the pale cheek, where the wound of Terry Boot's ring was still visible under the eye. Draco flinched with the sudden, gentle touch, and Harry leered at him lopsidedly.

"Perhaps I'll explain it to you some day, Malfoy, if you behave yourself."

Draco shrugged and then sharpened his eyes. "Potter, why did you put the glasses on again? I told you I don't like them."

Lazily, Harry took them off once again that day, and allowed Draco to repair his eyesight.

"Much better," Draco mumbled. Then he cleared his throat and stepped further away from the mirror-portrait, under the bright sky that spread above the roof. Elegantly, he balanced on the black pantiles. "So… What did Nocens bring you?"

Harry fumbled for the envelope in his pocket and handed it to Draco. "See for yourself."

While Draco began to open the mysterious message, Harry wandered closer to one of the castle's chimneys and leaned his back against it. Vaguely he mused why he'd never before visited the roof, since it was both so beautiful and peaceful here.

"Holy SHIT!"

Harry turned to look at Draco, who was now frantically squeezing the photograph, eyes widened with shock.

"Yes, that's exactly how _I _wanted to react when I first saw it. But I was in the Great Hall, so the situation didn't quite allow."

Draco shifted his pearly eyes at Harry, making Harry's heart shiver. "You did a fucking great job keeping this down, Potter."

Harry flushed. "Um, thanks. I guess." 

Wanting to escape Draco's hypnotizing eyes, Harry began to traipse along the ridge of the roof, balancing on the tiles and admiring the marvellous nightly view. A sudden gust of wind made his already straight-out-of-bed –looking coiffure tousle even more, but he didn't care. He put his hands in his pockets and closed his lids against the shimmering moon. He didn't know that Draco was watching him very intently.

"Can I have this picture, Potter?"

Harry slowly opened his lids and let the huge, silvery crescent blind him momentarily. Then he knelt down and turned his head towards the Slytherin, gazing at him sexily amidst the black locks that fell over his eyes.

"No, you can't. It's very inspiring, and I'd hate not to have it myself," he grinned.

Draco grinned back. "Well then, can I at least have you?"

"Hmm. I was thinking that _I _might have _you_."

"Oh really?" Draco looked playful. "And what makes you think that you're the one who leads this game?"

"I don't think, Malfoy. I know I lead this game," Harry said, in a strangely self-conscious manner.

"May I remind you that it was _I _who had _you_ yesterday?" Draco stated slyly. "Not the other way around."

"Only because I wanted it so. But I had you _first_, on Halloween, and that makes _me the dominant one."_

"Halloween was pure cunning on my part! Don't expect such tender handling in future, Potter!"

"And what would you know about tender handling, you twat? You don't know anything about it, and I'm not going to give you anything like it. I want you rough, Malfoy."

"Just wait, Potter! You'll be moaning my name the minute I lay my fingers on you."

"Oh yeah? Well I will make you scream 'Draco Malfoy is Harry Potter's own little submissive slut' before you even have the time to open my zipper."

"Me? Submissive? _Never_!" Draco roared. "Besides, I don't scream!"

"Well, we'll just have to see about that!" Harry snarled seductively, preparing to receive Malfoy's attack.

"Get ready to groan in ecstasy, Potter," Draco purred, and fierily jumped the Gryffindor.

Harry received Malfoy with delight, capturing the edible Slytherin in his embrace and sliding his arms around the boy's waist. Then he grabbed Draco's belt and hauled him easily over and under his own weight. He kicked Draco's legs apart and pressed the Slytherin against the pantiles with his groin.

"Mmm… You make me _s_o horny when you're angry, Malfoy," Harry said huskily, attacking the smooth skin under Malfoy's jaw with his mouth.

"Grrr, get _off me, Potter!" Draco hissed, pressing his nails in the skin of Harry's waist, making the Gryffindor retreat with painful tickling. Then he sucked Harry's lower lip between his sharp teeth and rolled over him, keeping Harry's head down by pulling the jet curls._

However, Harry was taking none of it and slid his hands over Draco's ass, under the trouser canvas, and squeezed. Draco murmured something inexplicable and kissed Harry like a hyena, still not letting Potter take the upper hand. 

"How do you like this, then, Malfoy?" Harry spoke into the Slytherin's mouth and slid his finger between the buttocks, pressing it sharply down. 

Malfoy winced with surprise and Harry got his chance to nudge him on his back. Rapidly, Harry went to sit on Malfoy's stomach and pinned him tightly between his thighs. Locking Draco's wrists with one hand above the boy's head, Harry used the other to rip open the smooth, white shirt.

"Don't look at me like that, Malfoy," he devilishly smiled. "I know you like this."

"I never… Mmmf!"

Harry claimed Draco's mouth hungrily, forcing him to answer his warm and wet kiss. Roughly, he used his free hand to open and pull Draco's trousers half way down. Draco wriggled like a little snake, wanting to get on top at any cost, however getting more and more tangled with Harry.

"Say it, Malfoy! You're Harry's own little slut!"

"The fuck I am!"

Harry began to give teasing kisses over Draco's torso, circling the soft skin with the tip of his tongue, making the wet trails feel cold in the nightly air. Draco immediately stopped writhing and, despite himself, gave a suffocated moan when Harry's tongue eventually touched the light hairs under his navel.

"I said you'd like this…" Harry mumbled and trailed his chaffing fingers along the waistline of Draco's boxers. "Want some more?"

"Uh-huh…" Draco moaned, however keenly shaking his head in protest.

"Then say it! Draco Malfoy is Harry Potter's own little submissive slut."

"Fuck you, Potter!"

Harry gently tugged the boxers down and moved to lie next to Draco. Then he let his fingers wander very mischievously over Draco's cock, giving it light touches, and then retreating suddenly and entirely. Looking nonchalant, he rose up to his knees and patted Malfoy's head as if he'd been a five-year-old boy. 

"So sorry, Malfoy. Good night, then."

Harry leaped up and turned his back on Malfoy, starting to walk away.

"Wha…? Potter! Come back here!" Draco shouted in frustration, rolling over his stomach and gazing after Harry. "That was _fucking unfair_!"

Harry tried not to grin with satisfaction when he laid his eyes on the furious Malfoy heir. "Well, you know what to say, baby."

Draco's eyes cast silvery arrows that wanted to kill. "You should be in Slytherin, Potter. Damn you're vicious!"

"That's what they've been telling me all along."

"They?"

"The Sorting Hat and the Voldemort in me."

Draco looked extremely puzzled. "Ah. Um. Okay…"

Harry smiled and walked back to him. "You never knew Voldemort transferred some of his powers to me that night he tried to kill me."

"Which of those nights?" Draco's voice was a little bitter.

"The first one," Harry suffocated a wide smirk.

"Hmph."

Harry's eyes danced with amusement. He thought Draco looked so cute under the starry sky, flushed with anger and confusion, mouth curled into an unsatisfied expression. 

"That's why I truly should be in Slytherin," Harry explained. "Speaking of which… I really plan to be right in there, in a few minutes," he then grinned.

Harry knelt down and smoothed Draco's back seductively. 

"Just say those words, my love."

Draco sighed, pressing his face into his palms. He was almost desperate to feel Potter's fingers on his skin again, almost desperate to feel the warmth of that strangely devilish mouth again. Emphasizing the word _almost_, because Malfoys were never desperate. Not even this time, even though Draco most positively would have jumped down the roof with frustration if Harry would had left.

"Oh, what the hell…" Draco admitted his defeat, nuzzling his face deeper in his hands. "IamHarryPotter'sownsubmissiveslutnowGET the HELL OVER WITH IT, YOU SUCKER!"

"With pleasure, Draco…" Harry smiled. "With pleasure…"


	15. Heat

**15. Heat**

"Draco?"

"Mmmh... Sod off, Goyle..."

"Huh? We're gonna be late for breakfast if you don't get up, Draco."

Sometimes, actually not at all as sporadically as Goyle thought, Draco felt the irresistible need to kick his friend's teeth down his throat. 

"Can't you bloody see that I'm having a bad hair day? I'm not showing myself at breakfast. Bugger off."

"Er…"

"Go and find Vin, okay? At least he's always got appetite. I just need a bit more sleep."

The fat mouth of Goyle twisted nervously sideways. "Yeah. Okay. Whatever you say, Draco. Just… don't be late from Potions. I saw Snape early this morning and he wasn't in the best of moods."

Here, Draco allowed his eyes open slightly ajar, turning their cobalt gleam towards his denser than dense sidekick. "Since when have you been up early, Goyle?"

Goyle made an effort not to blush, however failed. Stammering something about the breakfast, he began to turn away.

"Goyle? Are you seeing someone?" Draco was now totally awake. He'd never thought Goyle getting a girlfriend –or a boyfriend. He'd always thought it impossible for both Goyle and Crabbe to get laid, since they hardly could see their fellows as their stomachs were in the way.

"Well? Are you?"

"Uh, well… Not really."

"Not _really_?"

Goyle's little eyes glimmered in the cold dormitory as he watched how Draco propped himself on his elbows and shook some platinum locks away from his forehead. He was wearing no pyjama top. The milky skin was somewhat bruised every here and there, and he was about to ask how the Slytherin Ice Prince had allowed himself to get such injuries. However he kept his tongue, remembering one certain moving photograph and one certain horny Gryffindor. And he really didn't want to hear what Potter had done with his housemate last night. Not really. But still… 

After the first shock, Goyle really thought Draco and Harry a very interesting and inspiring couple. Despite himself, he'd felt himself harden when watching their little show at the party, and now as he brought the image before his eyes again, spiced with the fresh bruises… And all the others had been saying the same... All those who'd seen them together were thinking that they were something so beautiful and wicked together that it wasn't even human.

"Goyle?" 

"Hummm… I was just saying… You're really seeing Potter, aren't you?"

A finely shaped, grey eyebrow shot up. "We were discussing about _your_ possible dates, Goyle, not mine."

"I have nobody, Draco."

Draco hopped out of the bed, marching at his extensive wardrobe to get a pair of grey trousers to cover his skin-licking green boxers. 

"Don't give me that bullshit, Goyle. Why else would you be up so early? You can tell me, I've been your friend all these sodding sixteen years."

Goyle seemed to hesitate, shifting his remarkable weight from one foot to another, so that Draco was afraid for his joints.

"I… I really could have somebody to confide in," the fat Slytherin finally stated, giving Draco a pleading look. "I just don't want it to go to Potter, is all."

Draco was looking for a matching jumper from his closet. Goyle watched his ivory, muscled back where several red stripes could be seen. Obviously Draco had had a _really_ wild night. And obviously he'd been the one to give Potter one hell of a handling, not the opposite way, even though Goyle had always considered Potter rather dominant.

"Don't worry, Goyle. Even though I might have some fun with the Scar-head, I'm not his friend or anything," Draco said over his shoulder, finding what he was looking for. "Just shoot it."

Goyle took a deep inhale, and even more profound exhale.

"I'm seeing Argus Filch."

Draco swirled around so rapidly that he hit his exquisite forehead on the wardrobe's door. "WHAT?"

"Remember the Halloween… He came to interrupt our party… Well…" Goyle flushed crimson red. "I thought I could stay there and explain some things to him, so that he wouldn't go straight to Dumbledore. And I offered him a bottle of Warrington's, and he actually sat the whole night there with me, drinking with me and… eh…"

Goyle stopped when seeing Draco's inexplicable but rather non-enthralled expression. Only after several seconds of silence, Goyle swallowed and finished his sentence. 

"And I kissed him."

Draco was so shocked he'd lost his tongue for the first time in his life. He wasn't shocked about Goyle seeing a man; that was obvious, of course, him being gay himself. But Argus Filch! At least forty years older than Goyle, and immensely _ugly_ at that! Shivers of pure disgust crept up his spine, making him want to grimace with revolt. However, as he was a Malfoy, he had a very talented career of not showing any emotion behind, and it was only too easy for him to build up that shield again.

"You kissed him?" he managed to ask, looking relatively cool.

"Yes," Goyle squirmed. "I… don't want to rush it, like you and Potter. He's very gentle, after all, and very insecure."

"You actually consider you have a real _relationship_ with Filch?"

"Well, no," Goyle winced, almost losing both his voice and courage. "Even though I'd like to."

"Hmm…" Draco took a deep, however unnoticeable breath. "Did you know Filch's up to some very nasty and kinky stuff, like chains and ropes and manacles and… Well, you know what's found in his private office."

Goyle finally lost his words, his ears turning a finer shade of pink. "Um…"

"And that he's thrice as old as you are, Goyle," Draco continued. "This is a very unhealthy relationship you're talking about."

"He's not but fifty-one! He just looks older!" defended Goyle, forgetting to be wordless. "He's the first person _ever_ who'd shown me some kindness besides mum and dad, and I'm damned if I listen to your badly founded accusations of his…"

"CALM DOWN, GOYLE!" Draco shouted, his eyes looking as icy as ever, yet with a hue of amusement. "I don't fucking CARE if you shag Filch, I just wanted to make sure that you know what you're doing."

"I do know what I'm doing," Goyle softly said, looking down. "Besides, we don't shag. We just kiss. _I _just kissed him _once_, actually. And now I've been trying to get him more interested, but he refuses me."

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. He'd always thought the last years in the school would be filled with weirdness, with everybody finding somebody to screw, but it had really outdone all his wildest expectations. He'd never thought there'd be so many non-straight relationships going on, let alone between students and staff. He tried not to think about it, being one of the most rumoured persons himself, in some defined circles.

"Draco?"

"Yes, Gregory?"

"Do _you_ know what you're doing, then? With Potter, I mean."

Draco immediately stopped breathing. "Yes," he hastily lied.

Goyle shot him a doubtful look, which was highly non-typical of his puny brains.

"Just… Save me from Filch in future, will you, Greg? I really don't need to hear all the juicy details of your distantly snog-related relationship with him. And I will save you from Potter," Draco said, rather dully.

Goyle nodded in perfect understanding. Draco slithered his school cloak on, and they both left towards the breakfast table, Draco completely forgetting his bad hair day.

The Potions class started with the familiar Ten-Points-from-Gryffindor tirade. Snape was indeed in a very sour mood, for a reason or other, and even the Slytherins kept a low profile. The students continued with the Polyjuice Potion, silently adding a couple of new ingredients into their not-nearly-ready soups.

Gryffindor had lost the ten points because of Harry Potter, which was not a surprise. Harry had come late for the class, looking extremely tired, however smiling. Snape had found this combination of shabbiness, care-freeness and glowing happiness unbearable, and had immediately made him sit next to Millicent Bulstrode. Little did the poor professor know that Millicent's company wasn't a punishment for Harry, if not for her looks -but Harry was actually relieved to get rid of his questioning best friends. 

Giving Millicent a lopsided smile, he began to study what ingredients the girl had already put in the mixture with Pansy Parkinson. He smiled inwardly when remembering Hermione brewing the same potion four years earlier. Then Snape's dryer than dry voice rasped in the classroom.

"We are going to do this potion a little differently than what it is in your books. We are going to fasten its process, making it to be ready in two weeks from now. Unfortunate or not, there follows that it's going to affect only forty minutes instead of the full hour, but I have no intention of keeping your lazy student brains hooked up with this boring brew for the entire term. Therefore, add three pinces more Wolfsbane and two drops of dragon blood from a Swedish Short-Snout, when the potion starts to look greenish instead of complete grey. And, do not expect me to taste it for you. We shall have a great contest, I am sure, as to the person who is allowed to taste Neville Longbottom's Polyjuice Potion."

Silent sniggering from the Slytherin side of the classroom made even Harry grin despite himself. Poor Neville was shaking all over, fearing Snape as much as always. Or perhaps he was just afraid that he'd be forced to taste his _own_ potion, for some reason. 

Harry yawned and smiled again. He hazily admired the silvery locks just a few meters before him, and sank in his memories about the last night, letting Millicent make every preparation for the potion with Pansy.

_Goddamn Malfoy… This pain… All over me…You really didn't give me much mercy, did you? But I guess I hurt you too… I just needed to hurt your pretty body… And you needed to hurt me even more… Oh, shit, this pain… agony… It's hard for me even to think straight… let alone sit…_

Harry bit his lip as he remembered how he'd started to kiss Draco again, after the Slytherin had finally agreed to play his little word-game. But as to the things that had followed… They had been completely something else than what Harry had had in mind. 

_You didn't let me taste you. You didn't let me please you too much. Actually, you didn't let me do anything but fuck you and hard. And even that, you let me do just a little while. Then you went mad… Then you threw me on my back and did those things to me…The same things I did to you, but even more harder… And I groaned for your fucking name in ecstasy, I scratched your soft skin…I loved what you did to me… And you asked me to come… And I did… _

Harry's thoughts were a mixture of lust-filled confusion and worry. 

_But you did not come. You did not come for me. And then you said you never want to come with partners. Never…_

Millicent jostled Harry with an elbow, forcing him to look at least somewhat awake, before Snape strolled over to check how their potion was looking. Snorting either disappointedly or sarcastically, the professor continued his way without saying a word, to both Harry and Millicent's relief, and to Pansy's disappointment.

_I'll teach you some manners, Malfoy… You don't just start having sex with me like wild rabbits and then not even have an orgasm! I know I can make you come. I know I can do the trick if I want… And you know it too, that's why you're so afraid of my touch. That's why you don't let me come too close. That's why we don't do anything else but raving mad fucking. Because it's easy to control. And because you don't have the courage to come._

Harry noticed that their potion was turning somewhat greenish, and told this to Millicent, who hastily asked Pansy where the Wolfsbane was.

_But I will make you come, Draco Malfoy… And I will make you come today! I will make you show your emotions this very fucking damned day. And, if that's not good enough for a punishment… I will do as much as make you come in public… in front of your friends._

Wickedly grinning, Harry handed Pansy the dragon blood and told her she should wear pink more often.

There were rare subjects Draco liked less than Transfiguration, if not counted Divination. Transfiguration was not boring in itself, but the fact that the professor who taught it was the Gryffindor head of house, Minerva McGonagall, made Draco despise everything related to transfiguring; just like the Gryffindors hated Severus Snape and Potions.

Draco was, of course, one of the most gifted students of the class, despite his clear antagonism towards the teacher. For his only luck, professor McGonagall wasn't keen on drawing points from any of the houses, and therefore he'd manage the class trough by merely looking bored and doing the things he was told, showing not more than slight disinterest. 

However, today there was something to cheer him up. Namely, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were making a rather loud fuss quite near Potter and Weasley's table, chirping excitedly about boys and their outer appearances. And more than in one occasion, Draco heard his own name take place in the girls' conversation.

"He's got so strong arms… So fine biceps… not too beefy at all, just perfectly fit," Lavender was giggling under her breath to Parvati and everybody else who cared to listen. "You really must admit it, Hermione. Draco Malfoy is one hot package."

Draco couldn't help his curiosity and carefully glanced at Granger's direction. She was looking merely horrified. Draco grinned.

"He's not all that _bad_ looking, if you put it that way, Lavender, but you must see what a prick he is," Hermione hushed. 

Lavender only giggled more. "Oh, you're just saying that because you like Harry so much! But really, just take a look at Malfoy, Herm, and tell me which one is better looking, he or Harry. And seriously."

Draco immediately looked away from the girls, concentrating on rolling up the parchment in front of him. He really had to wonder if the Brown girl had any brains left at all. She seemed to be even more lack-wit than Gregory and Vincent. But he hated to admit it, he was still interested to hear Granger's opinion. 

"Lavender, could you please keep your voice down," Hermione instructed. "And for your information, when I really think about the matter, I cannot say which one is better looking. They're so different, like light and shadow. Though… I don't know which one is the light and which the shadow, if you go and think it too deeply. Uh… But I can clearly say who is the cute and warm one, and who is not. Now please, turn around and follow the teaching."

Draco smiled. So, the mud-blood Granger could not completely deny that he was good-looking. She was thinking him as much as very handsome, if she could compare him with Potter that easily. 

_Light and shadow indeed… Am I the light-looking shadow and Potter the shadow-looking light, or what?_

"Malfoy's hair's so soft, so beautiful! Almost like mine!" Lavender blabbered. "Whereas Harry's is ruffled and messy and unrefined."

"Lavender, _please_ would you listen to the professor?" Hermione pleaded. "Mocking Harry doesn't bring him back, you know."

"Hey, I got it! Let's arrange a vote! The handsomest boy and the prettiest girl of the school!" squeaked Lavender, completely ignoring Hermione. 

She received excited nods from Parvati. "It will be _so_ much fun!"

Draco snorted. _So, who is the fairest one of all in this school? It's got to be either me… or me. And Potter can have both the second and the third place. _

"Honestly…" started Hermione, but shut her mouth as professor McGonagall glared at the girls crossly. 

"Miss Brown, if you are done with admiring Mr Malfoy for the day, would you please come forth and show us how you change this little bowl into a pensieve."

Flushing, the Gryffindor girl tiptoed in front of the class, now looking somewhat nervous. Draco took the chance and sneaked a glance at Potter's direction. He met the pair of green eyes briefly, convinced that Potter had also heard the back-and-forth of the girls. 

_I so hope they won't seriously arrange some bloody beauty contest… That would be so humiliating. Not that I plan to take part in it, but still. The ridicule, the silliness, the absurdity…the naivety of it all. Or maybe I'm just afraid that Potter might win? _Draco snorted again. _Not likely…_

Everybody's attention then turned to Lavender, who'd managed to make a teapot out of the bowl, instead of a pensieve.

The afternoon rolled forwards. At six, Draco was sitting in the library with Crabbe and Goyle, preparing for the next day's DADA lesson. They were sitting at a large, round table, and each of the three had spread their books and other stuff carelessly in front of them.

"Could you tell me once more the meaning of this particular runic symbol, Draco? I think this is a banishing rune," asked Vincent Crabbe. "I really didn't get it, the way our teacher explained it. How can you possibly get it attached to an item? And how will it work? Send the person over to the other side of the room?"

Sighing, Draco put his book about Advanced Dark Runic Symbols for Future Dark Lords by T. Riddle away. "The first thing you must learn, Vin, is to recognise the difference between Charms and Symbol Magic. The second thing to do is to understand what the Symbols mean. And to understand their meaning, you have already done some runic studies in our fifth year."

"We had runic studies last year?" asked Goyle, munching a muffin.

Draco looked desperate. "You both passed it, even though with poor marks. But how can't you remember?"

"Um, was it the course where we were supposed to figure out the meaning of some weird-looking chicken scratches? Like in Divination, when we try to understand what our tea-leaves say?"

Draco didn't even bother to reply. He sank lower in his chair, stretching his feet under the table, and picked up his book again. And then he felt it. Somebody leaning to his thighs.

"Could you please check this out, Draco?" Goyle asked, handing a parchment to his little boss. "Look what it says."

The hands slid towards the buttons of Draco's trousers, undoing them one by one. Draco looked down horrified, suddenly seeing Harry Potter's grinning face right between his femurs. For the luck, there were piles of books in front of Draco, so that Harry was quite invisible to the other two Slytherins.

Draco took the parchment from Goyle, however used his other hand to push Potter away. 'Not now you idiot' he mouthed, trying to sit more straight in the chair. But Potter only went wilder with this, grabbing his buttocks and pulling him even more under the table.

"Aah… This really is a runic symbol for banishing something or someone…" Draco began, when noticing Goyle's questioning expression.

"So I thought!" Goyle grinned satisfied.

"However this is a very strong symbol. It can send somebody completely into another place, like a sort of p-portk…" Draco's voice caught in his throat as he felt Potter's warm lips curl around his member, sucking it teasingly.

"Yes?" asked now Crabbe, looking up from his own homework.

"However, it's destination can't b-be defined, it's randommm… ah... yes, v-very random," Draco continued. He felt now very hard, and desperately tried to kick Potter away with his legs, however finding them bound between the Gryffindor's arms and sides.

"So, we just draw this symbol somewhere and Merlin help the one who steps on it?"

"N-not just that easily. It's also important… to learn how to… to articulate the incantation…"

"What's wrong, Draco?" Vincent furrowed his black brows. "You got an allergic reaction, or why is it so hard to speak?"

Draco pulled Potter's hair now more fiercely than ever, trying to make the Gryffindor retreat. However he was granted only with fistfuls of ebony hair.

"Umm… It's just… stomach-ache…"

Both his sidekicks shrugged, and returned to their muffins and notes.

"So, how do you attach the symbol into an item?" Goyle mused.

"You need to… oh! Umm… You draw the runic symbol at the surface of the item with your wannnnnd… Ahem… While simultaneously saying the-ehh… incantation."

Casting now a pleading look at Potter's dancing eyes, Draco tried to wriggle away from the situation. But Harry was not permitting it. He stopped the caresses of his tongue for a couple of seconds, just to articulate with his mouth 'I will scream' before returning to sucking the lights out of Draco Malfoy again. Draco felt he wanted to cry.

"And then what?" Crabbe asked.

"Then… Yesss… Then you will specify the time or the way whenandhowthesymbolactivatessss... Aaaah… B-but we'll learn about t-that in our next lesson."

Draco had now a very hard time keeping his expressions at least somewhat normal. For his luck, his friends weren't that bright, but it still wouldn't be proper of him to be writhing with divine pleasure in front of them, moaning like a wild cat.

"You really should go see Pomfrey for that stomach ache, Draco," Goyle said, however not looking at him. "I hear she's got a very good receipt of a hot chocolate, which relieves the pain…"

"Mmmmggfff… Yessss… I've heard about it alrighttttt…"

Glancing down again, he saw an incredible view, with Potter doing him the most incredible things.

"You know, that Brown girl is really going to arrange a beauty contest," Crabbe noted, grabbing another muffin. "Spect you win, Draco. Everybody adores you. If not in public, then at least secretly."

"Yeah, unless they decide to vote Potter, just to make it sure that a Slytherin won't win," added Goyle, now drawing the initials A.F. into the cover of his schoolbook.

"S'okay… R-really… I'm not eventakingpartinit…" Draco whined. He was now dangerously close.

Harry took the not-so-little-one entirely in his mouth, making the Slytherin throw his head backwards with both panic and pleasure. His caresses were driving the blonde hopelessly over the edge. Draco had given up trying to push Harry away; it wasn't leading anywhere, since the Gryffindor obviously would prefer to die before stopping the job he was doing. Draco's mouth twisted with the approaching orgasm, and he wanted to groan with the waves of satisfaction and delectation.

"Here, let me help you to Pomfrey…" Crabbe started to rise from his seat.

"NO! STAY WHERE YOU ARE!" Draco shouted in panic, so that the whole silent library echoed with his voice, and Crabbe dropped back. "I'm just FINE! I just… WOULD YOU FUCKING STOP STARING AT ME RIGHT NOW PLEASE? Because I'm… I'm… Oh, no… No… Nnnnggghhh… FUCK! FUCK! Oh, fuck…"

Draco doubled over with the orgasm, slamming his forehead at the table top, sinking his fingers painfully in Harry's strong biceps. He distantly felt how Harry swallowed everything. He distantly felt how Crabbe and Goyle watched him as if he would've just dropped dead in front of them. He distantly felt the urge to cry.

The Gryffindor's gentle fingers re-buttoned his trousers back to their original state before retreating. Draco tried to make his breaths normal again, with a huge effort not to look like some fifth-year Hufflepuff girl after her first time. Then the weight was shifted from his thighs and he knew Harry Potter was gone, easily escaped with the help of the Invisibility Cloak.

_Damn you Potter… I'll make you pay for this… I swear I'll make you pay…_He snarled against the wooden surface of the table.

_But damn it felt so good…_

…TBC…

A/N: I apologise. This was a really shocking chapter. Somebody hex me.


	16. Sweet Revenge

A/N: ROTFLMAO! I _knew_ you'd be shocked about Filch! But there is a _reason for his appearance. There is __always a reason behind my weird ideas._

A/N II: Um, **warning**: A slight amount of **femme-slash** in this chapter…

A/N III: This chapter is (again) very long. The author apologizes.

**16. Sweet Revenge**

It was five thirty in the morning, and Draco Malfoy was already up. He had spent whole five minutes dressing in the chilly dormitory room, and now he was on his way up towards the castle's entrance hall. He had left all his friends soundly snoring, wanting to sneak out without drawing attention. 

_Tuesday… No classes with Gryffindor today… You're lucky, Harry Potter… At least till tonight…_ Draco smirked devilishly.

As he entered the entrance hall, he found it still completely abandoned, just like he had hoped and planned. Even the paintings seemed to be sleeping. The only distant noise was the silent clatter of plates that came from the kitchens below.

Draco stretched his pale fingers and paced back and forth, to warm up a bit. Impatiently, he glanced out of the tall gothic window to greet the white, dawning sky. And then he finally heard the footsteps he'd been waiting to hear.

Casually, Draco leaned against the windowsill next to the massive wooden entrance, turning his head towards the gateway at his right. First he saw Mrs. Norris, who looked as shrewd and elegant as always, padding noiselessly on the rocky floor. And then he saw Argus Filch, the marauder-looking caretaker of the castle, who was trying to find the right key from a heavy-looking bunch, in order to open the castle doors for the new day. Draco snorted silently, remembering the gossip that Filch was a squib, and therefore couldn't use magic for locking and unlocking the gates.

"Morning, Filch," Draco said lazily, even stretching his usual drawl.

The caretaker immediately looked up from the keys, placing his trademark cantankerous scowl on his face.

"What are you doing here at this hour, boy?" he grumbled. "Go back to your dormitory until it's time for the breakfast."

Draco didn't change his slightly disparaging expression, let alone move an inch to leave. "I don't think so, Filch. See, I want you to do me a favour."

Filch scowled even more. "I don't have the habit of doing favours to nasty little tormentors such as you, boy! Now get out of my sight, before I will give you detention."

"Oh, really? Detention, hmm?" Draco's voice was indescribably infuriating. "Tsut tsut… Let's behave a little more nicely, shall we, Mr. Filch. Otherwise, some very shady information of you and a certain student might reach the ears of our Headmaster."

Draco Malfoy was privileged to see Argus Filch go pale, wordless and horrified.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy!" he hushed, looking nervously around. "I haven't done anything! Anything!"

Draco allowed an evil smile creep over his lips. "No? Not anything?"

Filch was silent, but his eyes were casting vindictive daggers at Draco.

"Even if you were not the one who to blame, do you think that Headmaster Dumbledore believes you one fucking Hogwats minute? Especially when seeing my weeping, love-struck friend Goyle? After all, he _did _kiss you, and you did _not_ push him _entirely_ away."

Filch looked as if he'd eaten a cactus.

"And you know us Malfoys well enough to believe that the accusations I am threatening to make against you… They are somewhat more serious than just kissing, Filch. _Very_ serious, actually. And Goyle _will_ support them, on my command. But, in case you might help me out a little, I might just…"

"What do you want, you little devil?" Filch hissed trough his yellowish teeth. "Just tell me what you want, and leave me alone!"

"That's more like it, Mr Filch," Draco grinned, victoriously, and immensely happy about his Slytherin-based persuasion skills. "Let's go to your office to talk some business…"

The Gryffindor common room bathed in golden sunshine as Harry entered it with Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville. The red velvet curtains, crimson plush sofas, the dark wooden tables and the heavy oriental carpets absorbed the warmness, looking even a bit dusty. Hermione was sitting by the fire with Ginny Weasley, smiling happily at the incomers. Harry smiled back, collapsing to sit between her and Ginny, stretching his long legs and leaning in a relaxed manner to the sofa's backrest. 

"Good morning, girls," Harry sang.

"Well, good morning to you too, Harry!" Hermione simpered, ruffling his dark hair. "It's so good to see you in high spirits again. I was really worried."

"Mmh… Yeah. I was a bit of a mess, wasn't I? But I know where I stand now," Harry said, accepting a bonbon from Ginny. "I'm so happy that I might just hug you all."

Ron knelt in front of them smiling, leaning to Hermione's knees. "It's been a long time since we three last spent a day together. What do you say if we try it again, Harry?"

"That sounds just wonderful, Ron," Harry said, feeling extremely peaceful. "I've been missing you and Hermione _so much. I'm sorry I've been so distant lately." _

"S'okay Harry," Ron patted his thigh. "Don't worry about it. You're not going to lose your best friends just because you're finally a normal teenager, suffering from lovesickness and stuff."

Harry gave him a hearty grin. "Lovesickness, eh? Maybe not exactly that. But you're right. This _is _just normal teenager stuff." 

_At least I hope it is…_

The breakfast time was at hand, and the Gryffindors lazily began to move towards the portrait of the Fat Lady. Harry dreamily followed, thinking about Draco Malfoy's reaction in the library the previous afternoon. 

_Oh, great, he's SO mad at me, I can tell. Luckily we have no classes together today… He needs some time to recover… _He smiled goofily, jumping the stairs down three at a time.

"You know, Harry, about Lavender," Ron began, looking amused. He obviously wasn't used to see Harry so beaming lately. "She claims she's now in love with Malfoy. What do you say to that?"

Harry couldn't help a loud snort. "Oh my Lord, not too much, I hope."

"Head over heels."

"Um… head over heels? That's no good. She hasn't got a chance in heaven with him."

"How do you know?" Ron asked, curiously.

"Because Malfoy's shagging someone else," Harry answered.

"Oh? And how do you know _that?" Ron furrowed his brow._

"Hmm? Oh… Just… Isn't he always shagging someone?"

"Good point."

"Huh?"

"What?"

"Er…"

"Hey boys!" interrupted Hermione. "Wonder what Hagrid's got for us today? We're trough with the Dragon Flies, remember?"

Harry slid his fingers along the rocky handrail of the moving staircase and restored the beaming expression over his features._ Hmm, not quite trough…_

Draco was positively close to fall asleep in History of Magic. Professor Binns was telling some facts about the zillionth Goblin rebellion with his reedy but monotonous ghost voice, making both the Hufflepuff and Slytherin students widely yawn or chat silently with each other.

Since Draco thought it wasn't appropriate for a Malfoy to fall completely asleep during a class, he found a new interest in writing Harry Potter a letter. Soon, his expression was very much reminding the one of those goblins that were rebelling against whatsoever, as he tried to make his letter both seductive and innocent. He didn't want Potter to suspect anything but intimate sex, even though he had something very much else in store for him. Argus Filch had kindly taken care of that. 

_Potter,_

_Meet me at __eleven o'clock__ at the Unicorn stables. _

_I guarantee you won't be disappointed._

_D.M.___

Draco was satisfied with himself. Short, Malfoyish style; no digressing, message clear. He folded up the parchment into a little square and put it in his pocket. Then he continued yawning with the rest of the class.

He was just about to fall in coma when he distinguished two Hufflepuff girls sniggering with each other, speaking about Harry Potter. Out of curiosity, he sharpened his ears, even though he still leaned over his desk, seemingly dozing gracefully against his outstretched arms.

"…and it's true. Nobody can escape the contest, because Lavender said that we could vote anybody, even Snape if we wanted. And I am definitely going to give my vote to Harry Potter," said Hannah Abbot, smiling disgustingly mawkishly at Susan Bones.

"Yeah, he's improved a _lot during the last two years. But I still think Malfoy's more sexy," answered Bones, immediately flushing and taking a careful glance at Draco. Politely, and more because he didn't want to get caught from eavesdropping, Draco closed his eyes as if he were completely unaware of their discussion, thus letting poor embarrassed Susan out of the hook. And sure enough, she continued with new eagerness now._

"Harry has started to leave his glasses away more often, lately. Wonder where he got the idea. But his eyes come more radiantly forth without them, I must say. And if it was not that I prefer blonde hair to black…"

"Tee hee hee, you're so impossible, Susan," replied Hannah, "But why Malfoy? Why not Finnegan? Or Ron Weasley?"

Here, Draco could not help a relatively loud snort. The girls jumped a bit, but calmed down when seeing Draco still sleeping.

_Oh my fucking shit of Hippogriff, how can one even suggest WEASEL? _Draco grimaced against his forearm.

"Oh, but why don't _you_ consider Etre or Montague, then?" Susan poked Hannah on the shoulder, giggling. "They're black-haired and quite gorgeous."

"B-but… they're _Slytherins!" Hannah made a disgusted face._

"So is Malfoy, if you don't recall," Susan replied, showing the other girl her tongue.

"Yeah, but he's… well… he's _Malfoy also! Therefore he doesn't count. But those other gits…"_

"What about the girls, then? I'm sure Lavender arranges this all just to emphasize her own pretty face," Susan said, quite unkindly.

"True. But I think Chang's going to be the queen," Hannah mused. "You know… We all have the possibility to vote one boy and one girl. And I'm sure none of the girls will vote Lavender."

"Damn right we won't! She's such a self-absorbed little princess that she would make anybody want to puke," Susan forcibly huffed.

"But Harry dated her for a week, just recently. What do you say to that?"

"Only this. He dated her _less_ than a week. Now what does that tell about her?"

"You're right. There's _got to be something wrong with her, no matter how beautiful and Gryffindor she might then be," stated Hannah, looking satisfied. Obviously she was thinking about her own possibilities with Harry Potter. Then she twisted her mouth to a shrewd grin and leaned closer to Susan. "By the way, have you heard that Lavender's now crazy over your dear sexy Malfoy here?"_

Draco could not help another loud snort. 

_Honestly… This is going so insane…_

Professor Binns ended the girls' conversation with his loud statement that the students would have to make a ten-inches-long essay for the next lesson. It would be about the goblin king Gilbert the Great and his doings with some ancient Dark Lord called Soth.

Draco sighed and dragged himself charmingly out of the classroom with Zabini, Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry Potter was on his way to lunch with Ron and Hermione when he suddenly collided with Draco Malfoy. He hastily stopped himself from smiling and drooling when seeing how extremely stunning the Slytherin looked that day. Instead, he narrowed his laughing eyes to a scowl and crossed his arms in a threatening manner.

"Malfoy, have you gone blind or something?" he snarled. And then he added wickedly, "Or were you just hasting towards the hospital wing? I hear you had a really bad tummy ache last evening."

Draco cast him such a menacing look that Harry had real difficulties to keep himself from laughing his ass off.

"I never knew you cared about my health, Potter," Draco sneered, eyeing the Gryffindor carefully.

"I never knew either," Harry shrugged. "Actually, I never knew you had a thing like health in the first place. Taken that you've always been rather off the deep end…"

"Watch your mouth, Potter," Draco sizzled, "And I mean, _really_ watch your mouth." 

Harry grinned, unable to help it. "I better have you watch it, Malfoy."

Draco fumed. Hermione and Ron exchanged confused expressions. 

"Harry… Don't provoke another fight. Heaven knows you've had enough of them, lately," Hermione said.

"He's already provoked it, Granger," Draco growled and pushed Harry angrily against the wall. "He just can't help wanting to get in physical contact with me. Can you, Pot-head?"

Harry felt Draco's fingers intrude in his trouser pocket in secret, and he instantly knew he'd find a message from there later on.

"No, I really can't help it, Malfoy," Harry hissed, bringing his mouth dangerously close to Draco's. "Because you seem to give me no other choice."

Draco involuntarily licked his lips. "I hate you, you do know that, Potter?"

"Likewise, Malfoy," Harry let his breath caress Malfoy's moist lower lip. "Now would you please get your fucking hands off me?"

"With uttermost pleasure," Draco murmured and stepped away, however not forgetting to squeeze Harry's bottom unnoticeably before it.

"Come on, Harry, let's go to have some food," Ron said, finally able to breathe. He'd been very anxious about his friend, and was really relieved that Malfoy had not made the situation more heated.

"Yeah, let's go, Ron," Harry smiled, not the least disturbed by Malfoy's attack. "Hope they have mince pies and cherry fudge and nut brittle…"

Hermione laughed. "You really are changed, Harry."

Harry looked at her quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you didn't take the sizzling Malfoy anyhow at all. You just shrugged and began to talk about food."

Harry couldn't help laughing at Hermione's description of his behaviour. "Well, he wasn't serious. He was just being a git."

"How'd you know?"

Harry was saved from answering when Lavender Brown hastily pushed past them, nudging Harry with her elbow. 

"Well, _she's_ the one who's serious," Harry grimaced.

"What's she up to?" wondered Ron. 

They all watched as Lavender hurried along the Great Hall middle aisle, towards the front where the sorting ceremony usually took place. 

"She's about to make an announcement of some kind," Hermione sighed. "Hopefully not about…"

"EVERYBODY HEAR ME? EVERYBODY SEE ME?" Lavender's loud voice interrupted her sentence. "Excellent."

The Gryffindor trio found their seats and sat down, unable to avoid hearing what Lavender had to say.

"THE BEAUTY CONTEST BEGINS!" 

_Oh, aw… waah… _Harry winced and leaned his forehead to his palms. _I'm going to vomit right now…_

From the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy being close to feeling ill, as well.

"Every student and teacher has two votes. One for the best looking boy, and one for the best looking girl," Lavender's annoying voice continued. "We have three days time to make our choices. The voting happens with the help of this goblet." 

Lavender held out a shining golden goblet for everybody to see. 

"It's called the Goblet of Beauty. And it can't be fooled. Everybody has only two votes."

Ron made a face. "If Lavender's the one who's made that goblet, I bet it can bloody well be fooled. She'll be giving herself at least a hundred votes." 

Hermione and Harry snorted.

For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy felt nervous about going to the Divination classes. He still hadn't forgotten about the awkward vision he'd gotten the last time he gazed at the crystal ball. He didn't know if it had been just a dream, though, but he still felt a little uneasy tingling in his chest when he sat by the round table with Crabbe and Goyle.

Draco couldn't help pursing his elegant nose when the heavy perfumes hit his nose again. He leaned back in his chair, trying to get accustomed to the piercing smell, when he saw how his sidekicks were watching him.

"What?" he asked, sourly.

Crabbe and Goyle both turned their heads away quickly.

"You've been watching me that oddly all day. What the fuck is wrong with you? Because, I know there can never be anything wrong with _me!"_

Here Crabbe got the courage to shift his eyes back at the gorgeous blonde boy next to him. "Um… We're just worried. You know… After last afternoon… When you got the horrible stomach ache attack…"

"Yeah," accompanied Goyle, "Since then you've got this constant evil smirk on your face, whatever you are then doing. It's kind of scary, you know."

Draco instantly made the smirk even viler, addressing it at his friends. They shifted in their chairs a little anxiously. "Well, am I not a Slytherin? It's just normal that I'm thinking about wicked things, is it not?"

Goyle swallowed. "I guess so. But… You must have something exceptionally malicious in your mind this time."

Draco flashed his white teeth. "Mmm, you might say that, dear Gregory… You might say that…"

"Alright, students, we are now going to continue with the crystal balls," the far-flung voice of Trelawney started. "It is very useful to rehearse the skills you've learned during the earlier years at this school, and I can say there were many improvements last Thursday. Now, if you please… I will try a new method. There is going to be some music that should help you to concentrate."

_Fucking great! The sole purpose of my life has always been to find out what kind of music Professor Trelawney likes._ Draco closed his eyes in despair. _Hope it's not the Weird Sisters… God, let it not be the Weird Sisters…_

Lucky for Draco, the music that started was rather beautiful, with violin and piano. Satisfied with Trelawney's choice, he obediently grabbed his crystal ball and lightly began to throw it from hand to another, as if it would have been a small Quaffle. He honestly had no desire to get hypnotized by the music and the perfumes, and he definitely didn't want to glare into the frigging ball. But the crystal orb didn't quite give him an option. It started to glow anyway.

Draco halted his movements mesmerized. His fingers were smoothing the surface of the item, feeling the coldness that radiated from it. And then he began to see again.

And this time, it wasn't just a hasty mass of random figures and actions.

_Ah… This is my room. There's my luxurious four-poster and there is my enormous wardrobe. And yes, under my feet is the carpet that is so thick that I nearly have to wade across all the oriental softness. Oh, and somebody's knocking on the door. I am standing in the middle of the floor. But why do I look so insecure?_

_The incomer is my Father. He's looking like he was proud of me. Oh, he's always been so proud of me, in his own way._

_But why am I so insecure?_

_Father takes steps closer. And I just stand there as if I had no idea what to do or say, how to react. Hmm… weird…_

_My father reaches out his hand, landing it on my shoulder. And I visibly flinch._

_Why the hell do I flinch?_

_He looks at me oddly. Hell, even I look at me oddly. But Father still smiles at me. But for some reason, I'm not happy to see him smile. My eyes are so dark…_

_He slides his hand down my arm, grabbing my wrist. And he pulls up the sleeve, smoothing my alabaster skin with his long icy fingers. I know they are icy fingers. They always are. And I flinch again._

_"It's the time, my son."_

_I draw my hand away and hiss at him. Father frowns at me. He's displeased._

_What, did I just hiss at my Father? What the HELL is wrong with me? _

_It must be this sodding ball again…_

_Father raises his brows. His brows that are so much like mine. And I see that my mother has also entered the room. _

_My eyes wander at her direction. She looks beautiful. She smiles at me. But she's nervous. _

_Why is my mother nervous? She never is._

_Then I say something to my Father. I cannot hear what it is… Damn. But obviously… Obviously he doesn't like what I say. Oh, fuck… _

_His face goes completely stony. Only his eyes betray that there's an emotion in his heart. And hell, I know that emotion so well. _

_Oh, fuck… _

_He yells something at me, his fury interrupting his sentence. And he hits me in the face._

_And he hits me another time…_

_And another…___

_And I cry. I fucking CRY!_

_I am huddled in a heap on the floor. I'm covered with my own blood. But… But… Oh, Merlin, this is getting difficult. _

_I look at my mother, pleadingly. She cries, as well._

_Father has taken out his wand. I reckon he's about to cast a killing curse on me. Or at least Cruciatus._

_I bend my head in defeat. _

_WHAT? Now this is going ABSOLUTELY too thick!_

_"Cruciatus!"___

_Father says the incantation, pointing his wand at me. But my mother flings herself between us, and gets hit by the horrible magic, herself. She succeeds to snap the wand from Father's hand… it rolls far away. And my mother collapses against my father, in pain._

_"You bitch!"_

_Father's voice echoes in my ears, making my head hurt. He takes a knife from his pocket and… Oh, Lord… He stabs her between the shoulder blades. _

_This can't… This can't be happening to me again… I want out of here… I want out! OUT!_

"OUT!" Draco yelled, from the bottom of his lungs. He grated his teeth together and with rage, he threw the crystal ball out of the Divination tower window. "It's NOT BLOODY HAPPENING!"

"Mr. Malfoy!" It was the shocked Professor Trelawney.

Draco turned his flaming grey eyes at her, breathing heavily.

"Mr. Malfoy, this is outrageous! Go and get the crystal ball immediately back!"

"I'm not bloody going near that ruddy orb of gimcrack, Professor. No fucking way!"

Every student, along with the Slytherins, gazed at Draco with wide eyes. It wasn't that he had sworn; he always did so. But it was another thing to bluster in front of a Professor. And a rampant nuts professor, at that.

"You go out of this classroom immediately, Mr. Malfoy, and bring that ball back!" Trelawney shouted, with a shrill voice. "This instant!"

Draco only glared. "No."

"Twenty points from Slytherin!" Trelawney shrieked. "And if you still continue to disobey me…"

"Alright, alright!" Draco grunted, lifting his hands in front of him as if Trelawney would have been in danger to jump him. He thought it was probably the first time in hundred years that a house had lost points in Divination. Neatly, Draco then targeted his wand out of the window. "_Accio__ crystal ball!"_

In a few seconds, the orb emerged back inside, amazingly still in one piece.

"You are very lucky that it is not broken, Mr. Malfoy," Trelawney alleged, her voice shaking with anger and shock.

"You're mistaken, Professor," Draco stated, letting the ball roll over the other side of the table. "It _is broken."_

"_Lumos__!" _

Harry Potter was treading softly along the long aisles of Hogwarts, quarter to eleven in the evening. The moonlight had made his way white all the way downstairs, but now, as he had reached the bottom floor, there were suddenly no windows left to allow the silvery beams sneak inside. The only illumination was the gentle golden shimmer on the top of his wand, as he proceeded towards the little backdoor that would lead him to the moon-washed garden before the stables.

_Meet me at __eleven o'clock__ at the Unicorn stables. I guarantee you won't be disappointed. _Harry remembered Draco's invitation. _But of course I won't be disappointed. Not with you, Malfoy. Never with you…_

Just as he was pushing the narrow wooden door open, he heard a muffled voice coming from a close distance. Immediately he sharpened his ears, gathering a vigilant poise and leaning tightly against the wall.

_"Nox!"_ he whispered, turning down the light from his wand and eagerly straining his eyes to see some movement around. However, he saw nothing.

Relaxing a bit, Harry turned towards the garden gate again. And then he heard the voice again. Actually, two female voices, silently speaking with each other in the direction of an abandoned classroom at Harry's left. 

_Now what is this? I thought everybody was in bed, already. _Harry couldn't help his curiosity and tiptoed closer to the classroom's door that was slightly ajar. _I hope neither of the Prefects will find them. This would be a place to take at least twenty points from their houses. _Harry completely forgot that he himself was as much in danger to lose points as those two girls in the classroom.

Making sure his breathing was soundless, and the hems of his robes were making no ruffling sound, Harry moved to look inside the classroom from the little chink. 

He was faced with a view that almost knocked him out.

"Tell me, Ginny, does it feel good when I do it like this," said a hushed but eager voice of Hermione, who was sitting on the floor, dangerously close to Ron's little sister, now sliding her hand rather demandingly behind her crane. "Just say what you think."

Harry watched with dilated eyes as Hermione gently opened Ginny's lips with her tongue, sliding it along the younger girl's teeth and finally sinking it into her mouth completely. Ginny's soft moans nearly made Harry's jaw hit the stony floor with amazement. _What in the name of the Voldemort's mother's cat is this?_

"Mmm… It wasn't that bad, Hermione," Ginny smiled at the elder Gryffindor. "But what if you do it just a little differently, like this?"

Ginny leaned against Hermione, softly biting her lips before giving her a profound French kiss, lingering her tongue at the brunette's lips before parting.

Harry was now nearly hypnotized. He felt a burn in his trousers, watching the two dearest girls in his acquaintance making it out right in front of his eyes. They were, however, still completely dressed, and were in no hurry of reducing their clothing. _More! More! Harry's mind screamed, whereas his mouth was twisted in a frenzied grin. He imagined he looked so crazy that somebody would immediately throw him at St. Mungo's, if he was caught. __Go for it, girls! _

Hermione tried to kiss Ginny back the way Ginny had just kissed her, making it however more slowly, taking support from Ginny's jowl as she sucked the girl's lower lip. Harry's eyes reminded the ones of an owl on a hunting trip as he leaned forwards, absorbing every single detail of their intimate touch. _Yes… Say you like it, Ginny…_

"Oh… That was _very_ wonderful, Hermione," Ginny flushed, leaning her forehead to Hermione's shoulder. "I'm absolutely sure Ron will love it."

_Ron? What's Ron got to do with this?_

"I hope you're right," Hermione answered, with a sigh. "It's just that… Well… I can't understand _why_ he hasn't kissed me after Halloween. You know, all those little tender pecks on the forehead or cheek do not feel anywhere."

"But I am sure that it has nothing to do with your kissing skills, Herm," Ginny smiled, smoothing the brunette's chocolate hair. "You're amazing."

Hermione smiled, too. "So are you, Ginny. But you must promise me once again that this stays between us two."

"Of course!" Ginny laughed, taking Hermione's hands in her own and looking in her brown eyes. "Do you think I want the whole school to know that we practise kissing with each other, so that our current or future boyfriends would be surprised with our skills? I don't think so."

Hermione gave a hearty laugh as well. "Yes, we are good kissers by nature!"

The girls began to rise up, and Harry hastily backed away from the door, hiding himself in the shadows as the two small hooded Gryffindors swished past him, back towards the Gryffindor tower. 

_Good Lord… Malfoy has better have something very alleviating waiting for me…_

Draco Malfoy was leaning to an old, half-rotten gate of the stables, looking immeasurably acidic. His pale and furious face was even whiter than milk in the nightly shimmer, which made him look like a hungry male Veela, waiting for his victim. 

"You are late, Potter!" he snarled, as the Gryffindor finally deigned to arrive. "I don't like to be kept waiting."

Harry considered Malfoy's expression rather cute, when the Slytherin tugged his lower lip out, trying to look even more rebellious and displeased. 

"Sorry, dearest," he teasingly said with his low voice that had just a year before turned very masculine. "I just bumped into something that imperatively delayed my way down here."

Harry could almost hear Malfoy growl like a mad tiger. "What could possibly be more imperative than my request?"

Gently, Harry smoothed Draco's chin with a thumb. "What would you say about a show with two pretty girls kissing each other?"

For a second, Draco's eyes showed interest, but then he turned sombre again. "Been there, done that, seen it all."

"I believe you have," Harry said, now caressing Draco from under the jowl. 

"So… Who were they? Millicent and Pansy?" Draco callously inquired, jostling Potter's hand down.

"No, they were two Gryffindors," Harry smiled. "As you would put it: Granger and the youngest Weasley."

At this, Draco indeed raised his famous eyebrows. "Well, well, well… I'd never thought."

"Yes, it really was a rather interesting act…" 

Harry wasn't allowed to finish when Draco hauled him around and tied a dark Slytherin scarf over his eyes, so that he could not see a thing.

"Hey! You put it too tight, Malfoy," Harry complained.

"Shut up, Potter," Draco commanded, dragging the Gryffindor inside the roomy stall. "You don't even have your frigging eyeglasses that would go broken, thank God for that. So don't complain. You won't have to wear it too long."

Harry complied with Malfoy's request, instead concentrating to feel and scent his surroundings. The smell was earthy but not at all as bad as in normal horse stables, Harry thought. Unicorns were always so pure. Even though Harry could not see it, he sensed that there were at least ten huge animals in the same space with them, perhaps looking also somewhat put out because of the disturbance. Harry remembered the first time he had made a trip over the ice-covered lake in the sledge that one of those luminously-white horses had towed, and Ron had nearly frozen to hypothermia. 

He was reminded of Malfoy again, as the Slytherin pushed him roughly against a wooden post, locking his wrists with cold manacles and then lifting his arms in the air, combining the chain of the handcuffs to another chain hanging from the roof.

"Now, there," Draco said impishly. "You might just want to hear what I have in store for you tonight."

Draco took the scarf away from Harry's eyes with trembling fingers. However, he was trembling with suffocated hilarity, not passion or fear or insecurity. He had planned such a horrible joke for his too-tricky lover for that night.

"Tada!" Draco elegantly gestured around, allowing Harry a good view over a voluminous series of different torture devices. "We have a really kinky night ahead, _darling. You didn't think I would forget about last afternoon, would you?"_

Draco watched as Harry's expression went from surprised to shocked, and there to horror-struck. "Either you're really screwed up, Malfoy, or you're _really _screwed up. What is this, whips and ropes and leather?"

"Oh, so you already know what this is all about, then?" Draco nonchalantly said, biting down a wide grin. "You've done this before, Potter?"

"No! I fucking haven't!" Harry winced, trying to shake the cold manacles off, although knowing it futile. 

He tensed considerably as Draco stepped closer, pointing his wand at his chest.

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" Harry's voice was a mere whisper, so insecure he now was. 

"I am going to divest your clothes, of course," the blonde boy sneered, making an incantation with his wand. "_Reducio__ Induviae!"_

Harry's shirt and trousers ripped apart, shattering over the floor in rags and tatters, leaving a shivering Boy-Who-Lived almost naked in his chains.

"You're so sick, Malfoy! You're so damn sick!" Harry shrieked, not knowing how to best help himself. He was defenceless and embarrassed.

"You must now be thinking that I am some whacked pervert who would like to spank your nice little ass with a whip, don't you?" Draco drawled, slithering a finger across Harry's chest.

Harry scowled. "It doesn't need very much effort to think something like that about you, Malfoy."

Draco turned away, shaking with inaudible laughter. When he had recovered, he addressed Potter again. "You didn't mean that, did you, my dearest? Because I'd hate to think that you don't trust me."

"Trust you? _Trust_ _you_! That would be just the same than sending Voldemort an invitation to my graduation party!" Harry growled. "What are you going to do with all this stuff, Malfoy? And where did you get it?"

"Impatient, are we?"

"Malfoy…"

"Oh, don't worry, my love. Filch will be here any minute."

"FILCH!" Harry nearly shouted his lungs out. "What the hell is FILCH coming here for?"

Draco turned away again, desperately trying not to howl with laughter. "Um… Since he was so generous as to lend me all this stuff, I told him he'd be privileged to use it on you, if he would allow me to watch."

"WHAT? You sick BASTARD!" Harry cried with ultimate horror. He was feeling a bit cold with only his boxers on and definitely even colder when thinking about Argus Filch emerging any minute to witness his exposed state, in order to use those various instruments on him. "I will fucking kill you for this, Malfoy!"

"Oh, in _that_ case," Draco said and turned to walk out of the door. "I will not stay over and watch."

"Malfoy, don't you go anywhere!" Harry whimpered, now pleadingly. "Don't… Don't do this to me!"

"And why not?" Draco asked. "What you did yesterday to me wasn't exactly that nice, either. Besides, I'm a very revengeful nature. You keep that in mind."

Harry shivered as the cold night air streamed in from the open door. "Don't you fucking leave me like this, Malfoy, you sick sodding bastard!"

There was a smirk on Draco's lips. "You're right, Scar-head. I won't leave you like that." 

He returned to Harry, picking up the Slytherin scarf from the ground and tying it over Harry's eyes again.

"Happy evening with Filch, sugar."

And Draco Malfoy was gone.

Draco walked into the garden, sitting on the edge of a nice, little fountain. He looked at the sky, which was unnaturally lucid. It promised rain for the morning. 

Chuckling, Draco helped himself a vanilla cigarette, lighting it up with an incantation. He could hear Potter's yells many minutes afterwards, and they became more and more agitated and horrified as the time went by.

Draco let his right hand fingers trace the surface of the water, eyeing the little stony statue of a boy pouring the water from a little stony vase. _So ordinary.__ Not at all beautiful._

There was a stifled sound Harry trying to get away from the chains. Draco smiled horribly. 

_Learns to humiliate me in public, that one._

Draco took a long draft of his cigarette.

Harry Potter was feeling appalled. He really did not trust Draco Malfoy, and could well believe he was serious about Filch. After all, it was generally known that Filch favoured old-fashioned methods what it came to punish the students from their vandalism, and if he was told some horrible lies about Harry… Let alone some true stories…

Sighing, Harry tried to get the chains once more off his wrists, writhing around, feeling defenceless and a bit cold. He tried to shake the scarf away from his eyes, but didn't succeed in that, either. For some time, he had tried to yell after Malfoy, but the boy hadn't returned. And now Harry had lost all the will to make any kind of noise. For who would hear him?

Absolutely no-one.

So was Harry Potter forced to experience a completely new kind of terror in his living days. He could not see, and there was nothing to hear either, except for the silent breaths of the Unicorns. Every time when one of the animals took a step, Harry tensed, thinking that it was finally Filch who'd come to torture him.

_Oh Dear Lord… Malfoy can't be serious… But then again…  For all I know, he could be._

Harry felt his half-naked body tremble with disgust. He didn't even try to imagine the scene that would follow when the caretaker would step in.

_If I get out of this mess unscratched, I promise I will… _ Harry's thoughts came immediately to a dead end. _I promise what? There is nothing I could promise. I still would never let Ron ride my Firebolt. I still won't tell anybody about last Halloween. I still won't comb my hair any better. I still have no willingness to shop new clothes, although heaven knows how many times Hermione has nagged at me about that… And I still would never go back together with Lavender Brown._

He thought some happy things for a while, trying to get his mind off his current state. But the happy things soon faded away, when another memory flooded in his brains. A memory from his fourth year. A deadly memory.

It had been after the Triwizard Tournament's last task. After Cedric Diggory and he had grabbed the portkey that had led them at Voldemort's feet. Also then he had been tied up like this, and exposed to a danger. But it had been much more a mortal danger than Argus Filch. 

Harry shivered as he recalled how he'd been recklessly lulling against the tombstone, hit by the pain on his forehead. His current position didn't help him forget about those horrible memories; on the contrary. And before he noticed it, he started to cry.

He had not cried in many, many days. Not after he'd accepted his abnormality as normality. Therefore, his tears were plenty and salty, making him sniffle as a memory after another raced trough his mind. Cedric hit by the killing curse… Voldemort's resurrection… Wormtail's whines as his hand was taken away… The fight with Voldemort… and the ghosts of his parents. 

His parents…

_Oh, dear God…_

Harry had never told anybody exactly what had happened that evening. That is, what had happened to his own self. Not even Ron and Hermione knew how traumatic that evening had been. And Harry had never even wanted to tell them. He'd always pushed the feeling aside. He'd blocked those memories firmly from his mind. 

But now, when he was reminded about them again, Harry finally couldn't help the burning sorrow invade his heart. 

Harry sobbed like a little child, unable to resist the painful recollections. And really, the fact that he was hanging in chains, helplessly defenceless, waiting for lord-knows-what from the most repulsive man of his acquaintance didn't make Harry feel any better.

Outside, Draco Malfoy was rolling a second vanilla cigarette between his fingers. The ashes flickered to the ground like miniature snowflakes, landing on a pretty forget-me-not. Draco had been sitting outside by the fountain all the time, watching his breaths vaporize in the moistening nightly air and waiting for a convenient moment to return to Harry Potter.

When he heard no more writhing and protesting, he thought he might as well finish his distasteful joke.

Silently as Mrs. Norris, he walked back to the door that led inside the stables. The familiar shimmer of orange lanterns welcomed him inside, giving him a velvety view at the Boy Who Lived. The corner of Draco's mouth curled up a bit as he deliberately made some noise stepping inside. Immediately, the fine muscled body before his eyes tensed, in readiness to fight back whatever evil would try to come over it.

Draco continued walking towards the boy, half-heartedly kicking a rack of some odd metallic devices he honestly didn't know what they were meant for. He watched as Potter's breathes came more rapid, his head turning so that he could hear precisely where the incomer was moving. And then Draco stopped in his trails, like nailed to the floor.

Harry Potter was crying.

Draco felt a very freezing liquid make its way down his throat, wrapping around his heart and dropping into his stomach. His eyes went wide with shock, his exhale coming out as a weak current of air. He looked at Harry's face, covered still with the scarf. The scarf was dark with tears, some of them also making strains down the paled cheeks of the beautiful Gryffindor boy. For once in his life, Draco Malfoy felt guilty for what he had done.

As quickly as he had been nailed on the spot, he was again released. Heatedly, he flung himself at Harry, ignoring the kick Harry succeeded to give to his thigh. He ripped the scarf off the boy's eyes, holding his face between his hands. He saw how Harry's eyes immediately darted across the room, nervously and frightfully. 

"Potter? Potter! Calm down, it's me. It's just me..."

Harry focused his eyes to the blonde in front of him, revealing Draco two large pools of emerald water. A new cold feeling shook the Slytherin's body as he looked straight in those fearful, sad irises.

"F-filch?" uttered Harry, his voice so silent that Draco almost couldn't hear it.

Despite himself, Draco felt a nasty twinge behind his eyelids as he began to stroke the carbon hair away from the Gryffindor's forehead as gently as he could. 

"There's no Filch, Potter. There never was."

Harry swallowed, only to hold back another sob. "N-no Filch?"

Draco swore how close he was to crying, himself. But Malfoy's never cried. Never.

"Of course not, you silly brat," he said softly in Harry's ear, lifting his wand for an _alohomora. "I would never share you with anyone. I would never let anyone touch you but me."_

Harry's chains fell on the floor, as did his manacles. Instantly, he collapsed in Draco's arms, now giving fully in to his traumatic memories. He cried from the bottom of his heart. A ragged, soul-splitting cry he had never let out before. Not in two years. Actually, not in sixteen years.

And Draco Malfoy was horrified.

Harry Potter clung to Draco's neck so tightly that it was hard for the Slytherin to keep them both standing. Draco had never in his life felt such a physical contact before. Neither had he ever felt the need to comfort anybody before. And as to that, he had never even felt this guilty about anything before. 

"Sshhh, Potter, everything's alright," he tried to mumble, feeling the twinge even more urgent behind his eyes. 

Harry didn't reply, only nuzzled his head deeper under Draco's chin, wetting his skin with warm tears.

"I'm so sorry, Potter…" Draco's voice was a mere whisper as he embraced the shuddering boy. He realized that he had never even apologized in his life before. It just wasn't his style. And now Potter was making him do everything he had never wanted to do, by his mere presence.

"I'm so sorry…" Draco once again exhaled, and found himself giving gentle kisses on Harry's head. "Harry… Please don't cry… I'm so sorry…" 

Draco felt Harry's fingers scratch the shirt canvas on his back, trying to get a better hold of him. Then he remembered that the Gryffindor was only in his underwear, probably freezing to death.

"Here, let me help you…"

Draco gently detached Harry from him and swiftly divested his black school cloak. As being so good at Transfiguration, he neatly changed it into a warm blanket, wrapping it around Harry's shoulders. Then he pulled the Gryffindor back in his embrace, moving hands across his body to make him feel a bit warmer and kissing tentatively the jagged scar on his forehead. Harry seemed to like what he was doing, because he soon stopped shivering, and really calmed down.

"I… I'm not crying b-because of you, Malfoy," Harry whispered.

Draco instantly tightened his embrace. "What did you say?"

Harry turned so that he could see Draco's eyes. "I don't cry because of what you did. I can take a joke, that's alright. It was just…"

"Harry, what I did was _really horrible. I shouldn't have done that. But I don't always think…"_

"I know you've learned a lot more horrible things at home. I'm just glad you settled with this," Harry smiled.

"_Glad_? How the hell can you be _glad_? You should now be hexing me senseless!"

Harry brought his hand over Draco's cheek and smoothed it. "I'd appreciate if you'd just shut the fuck up and listen to me."

"Um… Whatever, Potter."

"I didn't cry because of your joke, even though it _was really nasty. I cried because… Because I remembered something I've tried to forget. This situation just somehow… brought it all to my mind, again."_

"See, you _did_ cry because of me."

"I didn't know you cared if I cried or not, Malfoy."

Draco furrowed his brows and tugged his lower lip out, like earlier that evening. Harry laughed.

They stood several minutes in silence, leaning against each other. Draco could feel Harry's heartbeats against his chest, and he felt oddly nervous. He felt that he actually could start to _like Potter._

"Malfoy?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you truly mean it?"

Draco slowly inhaled the pleasant apple scent of Harry's black hair, even though he still was scowling. "Did I truly mean what?"

"That you'd never share me with anyone?"

Draco flushed. "Um… I'm a selfish nature, Potter. You of all people should know that. I never share anything with anyone."

Draco could feel Harry smiling against his neck.

"What?" he asked, a bit annoyed.

Harry just widened his smile. "Oh, nothing…"

Draco sulked. "Potter…"

"You called me Harry earlier."

Draco sulked more. "Don't get accustomed to that, _Potter."_

Harry giggled and teasingly bit Draco's neck. "Of course not, _Malfoy_."

Draco groaned in frustration and let Harry go. "You really are a nuisance, Potter, honestly."

"I know I am," Harry beamed. 

Draco was very confused. He couldn't understand how Harry could be so cheerful after what had just happened. But then again, this was the hero of Gryffindor. Probably capable of everything related to goodness, joyfulness and braveness, not forgetting cunningness.

"You owe me an apology, Malfoy," Harry murmured, bringing his lips close to Draco's. "A _huge apology."_

"Apologize my…" 

Harry closed the distance and drew Draco in an intense kiss. Then he began to divest the blonde's shirt, placing gentle kisses down his chest when it was revealed.

"Ahh… Potter… You're incredible…"

"Mmm… Tell me exactly _how incredible…"_

"_Very _incredible… Yes… Oh… Oh, yes… Oh, Harry…"

…TBC…

A/N: Oh, how cute…! *Wide grin* Sorry, my dear readers, but there's still going to be a lot of angst ahead. Just wanted some tenderness in between...


	17. Lose Yourself

**17. Lose Yourself **

He was sitting still, staring out of the window. The morning had brought heavy rain along, just as he had expected. The grounds were melancholy grey, the mist making the view almost scary. They were the last rains that came down as water before the early approaching winter. How beautiful.

Draco Malfoy huddled his arms even more around himself, leaning his forehead to the glass of the gothic window. He saw his own reflection as marred, spoiled by all the down-flooding drops that made the window blurry. It was fifteen minutes till the breakfast would begin, but he found out he had no real appetite. 

Harry Potter had taken that away.

Draco was sitting on the same windowsill than a couple of days ago, in front of the hump-backed witch. He had often found the place rather peaceful, despite one certain interruption from Terri Boot. And now Draco had returned there once again, wanting to dwell in his own thoughts, without being questioned by his housemates.

_Oh, for fuck's sake… What's happening to me? What the hell is happening to me! This bloody circus has to stop. My father comes here tomorrow. And he expects me to stand up to the family honour. _

Draco heaved a sigh, letting his pale fingers slip down the cold sheet of glass. 

_Father would go sheer rabid if he knew what Potter and I were up to…Unless I could convince him that this is all part of the plan to please the Dark Lord. _

Draco puckered his brow. 

_But this IS the fucking plan to please that show-off, mental…Er, dangerously glorious Master of Darkness! This really is! I'm NOT interested in Potter, far from that. Potter's just… Potter… Harry… Fuck…_

A chill went down Draco's spine. He didn't know if it was because of the cold. 

_Potter's making me completely crazy with his behaviour. He's like… he's vicious! Otherwise he wouldn't be doing things like this to me. That nonsensical sod!_

Draco didn't even try to think what he meant by 'things like this', he was so angry at himself for getting a weak spot in Potter. He jumped down from the windowsill and started to bang his head furiously on the wall, as if he'd been some pathetic, masochistic house-elf. He felt the pain in his forehead increase by each thump, but he honestly didn't care. He desperately wanted to get back to his senses. Desperately. And he only added the force to his bangs, so that his forehead finally began to bleed with little scrapes from the rocky surface. The pain was welcome. Very welcome.

"Umm… Malfoy? What're you doing?"

Draco hit his head on the wall one final time and then turned slowly around.

"Well, what the hell does it look like, Potter? I'm banging my head on the fucking wall here!" he murmured, anger radiating from his voice.

Harry scowled at him. "I can see that."

"Good."

They stared at each other in silence for a couple of seconds.

"You're crazy, Malfoy, did you know that?" Harry asked, furrowing his oh-so-bushy black brow.

"Yeah, I fucking realized that about…" Draco took a glance at his clock. "About fourteen minutes ago."

Harry couldn't say anything to that. Draco eyed the Gryffindor from head to toes, immediately wanting to continue the head-smashing. 

And so he did.

"Stop it! Just bloody stop it, Malfoy!" Harry cried, running the steps to the Slytherin and hauling him away from the wall. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Draco wrenched his arm away from Harry's clutch and glared. "Do you think there's something wrong with me? What? Don't you like my looks anymore?"

"Honestly… I thought your arrogance couldn't get to any more higher a level," Harry sighed, but smiled all the same. "Obviously you have some issues here. But I really don't want to find out more. And yes, you're still as charming as always. Want to have a go?"

"What?" Draco asked, fluttering his lashes in amazement.

Harry looked at him impatiently, hands on his hips. "I said, do you care to have sex with me before we go to the breakfast."

Draco had the grace to look extremely confused. This wasn't Harry Potter speaking. This was somebody else.

"You know, Potter, _I_ should be one to make those suggestions, _not_ you. Dirty language just doesn't suit you at all."

"Who cares about the language?" Harry grinned at Draco's bewilderment and grabbed the Slytherin from the décolletage. "Well, how is it?"

Draco couldn't help feeling aroused when Harry held him like this, dominating his every movement. The Gryffindor's hot breaths caressed his lips, and before he realized it, he was moaning against that sweet mouth, giving in to Harry's request.

"Oh, fuck!"

"Mmh?"

"Draco, we're late from Charms! We missed the breakfast entirely!"

"We did?" the Slytherin muttered against Harry's chest, still dazed with his previous handling. Harry had been rather profound and possessive, to say the slightest.

"Malfoy, as much as I like having you all over me, I must insist you put your clothes in better arrangement and…"

"Alright, alright…" Draco growled, getting up from the floor and making a painful face. He closed his trouser buttons and cast some spells over his clothes, and they smoothed themselves back in their previous, perfect condition. 

"Think we should go into the classroom separately." Harry was tugging his shirt in his jeans, very satisfied with how he'd made Draco whimper under his actions, during the forty-five minutes they'd been making it out behind the statue of the hump-backed witch. 

"Yeah, if we would emerge together, your adorably always-worried friends Granger and Weasel might get suspicious," Draco grinned lopsidedly. "They'd think we had another fight."

"Well, we _did_ have quite a struggle, didn't we?" Harry said, pretending to be displeased. "You just wouldn't give up to being under me."

Draco glowered and began smoothing his radiant white locks. "Not until you decided to beat the reason out of me."

Harry was amused how Draco gave him an insulted glance.

"I should go in first, you know, to put Ron and Hermione at ease," Harry suggested, grabbing his schoolbag from the floor.

"Whatever," Draco said silently, making another uncomfortable face. "Damn, you really took me aggressively, Potter."

"What can I say? This place reminded me of one certain time when _you_ weren't that gentle with _me_…"

"Oh, sod off, Potter! It was because of that stupid Boot had made me angry!"

"Really?"

"No! Of course not!"

Harry laughed. He just sometimes couldn't help really liking Draco's twisted nature and comments. He thought Draco could be rather funny if he liked. However he didn't say that aloud, because he knew Draco didn't want to be considered funny, under any circumstances.

"Just… give me five minutes before you turn up, okay?" he grinned instead.

Draco nodded and they both headed towards the Charms lesson.

Professor Flitwick wasn't that pleased to see Harry Potter coming late for his class. Actually, he made a severe face and stared at the Gryffindor very disapprovingly.

"Mr. Potter, I hope you have a very good excuse as to why you're late?"

"Sure thing," Harry smiled, his eyes sparkling. "I was just ravishing Malfoy out of his wits and lost the track of the time. My apologies."

All the Gryffindor students and the Professor gasped, looking more than somewhat traumatized with Harry's easy statement. Instead, all the Slytherin students sniggered, understanding the truth behind that wicked meant-for-a-joke.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter," Flitwick huffed. "This is very inappropriate behaviour."

"I guess it is, Professor," Harry grinned, and sat beside the stunned Hermione and Ron. "As I said, my apologies."

The teaching continued. Hermione and Ron were both too troubled to ask an explanation from their best mate, and thus the atmosphere slowly calmed down, everybody finally accepting Harry's excuse as a lame and distasteful joke. At least until Draco Malfoy strode into the class. Everybody's eyes turned to look at him, obvious interest reflecting from their eyes.

"Welcome, Mr. Malfoy. And what is _your_ excuse for being late?" Flitwick snarled, annoyed of the fact that the class had been interrupted already twice. "And do not bother to tell us that you were having a wild make-out session with Mr. Potter, here. He already used that excuse."

Now everybody's eyes darted at the Professor, who had ventured to use such a liberal language. Even Draco, who always had a very composed expression on his face, looked relatively surprised. He let his eyes wander at Harry's direction, and received an evil smile.

"Well?" the Professor was asking.

"Um… I was… Aguishly banging my head on the wall in the third floor aisle and lost the track of the time, Professor."

Draco heard Harry chuckle whereas Professor Flitwick raised his brows in disbelief. "Pardon?"

"Earnestly, Professor! You can still see the scratches and bruises on my forehead," Draco exclaimed and lifted some locks of hair aside.

The dwarf-sized teacher sighed and tiredly beckoned the Slytherin to sit down. 

"Incurably demented, these students nowadays…"

The rest of the Charms lessons went by rather normally. Draco had the time to heal his forehead bruises with the help of Zabini, and Harry had the time to smile and convince his friends that everything really was okay.

For one day in his life, Draco Malfoy was to experience a tolerable Herbology lesson, despite the fact that the class was still stuck working with the Gillyweed. The reason for this was Professor Sprout, who had arranged the students in groups again, positioning Harry Potter and his two best friends next to Draco, Crabbe and Goyle. Of course, she didn't mean it as a punishment, not being the same kind of a sadist as Professor Snape –but she was positively just too kind-natured and blind to see the open animosity between the six people in question. 

The greenhouse was hot and humid, like it had been all these over thousand years Hogwarts had existed. Draco amusedly observed how Granger's hair began to frizz like the previous time, and how Weasley's T-shirt glued to his awfully non-fit stomach, revealing a completely different amount of abdominal wonders than Harry's T-shirt. Ah, and speaking about Harry's T-shirt… 

Draco was in front of a nearly impossible mission trying to keep his eyes averted from the dark-haired sexy Gryffindor bloke that was standing but a few meters away from him. Crabbe and Goyle were standing between them, looking very much gruff and porky, ready to keep the Gryffindor trio apart from their snobbish leader, completely unaware of the fact that Draco would have done anything if he'd been able to stand next to Potter without awaking thought in the other students. However, obviously Harry was thinking along the same lines, because soon Draco found himself in a fake quarrel with the boy.

As soon as Professor Sprout left the greenhouse in order to fetch some new bowls for the multiplying weeds, Harry Potter approached Draco with a smirk wavering over his lips. The electric sexual attraction between them two immediately began to hover in the air. 

"So, Malfoy, bet you're enthralled about Lavender's beauty contest, aren't you? Being so cute, I'm sure you will win the Prettiest Girl award."

The Gryffindor students, except Lavender and Parvati, sniggered loudly, yet being rather surprised that it was Harry who started the clash. 

"Well, that would still be better than to remain without a reward at all, like's going to happen to you, Pot-head," Draco growled, pushing Crabbe and Goyle out of his way so that he could face Potter properly. "But don't you worry –I promise to buy you a butterbeer as a booby-prize."

"Very nasty, Malfoy, asking me out for a date like this. Somebody would wonder if you hate me at all," Harry grinned, looking in Draco's similarly grinning face.

"Don't get over-excited, Potter. I think the winner of the Prettiest Girl contest has to take the Handsomest Boy out first. And that would be the Brown girl, mind, not you."

Harry couldn't help a chortle, and neither could the Slytherins and half the Gryffindors. Lavender, however, looked very horrified and was in the verge of crying. 

"That was a really evil thing to say, Malfoy," Harry tried to keep his face straight. "After all, she's the one who arranges this wonderful entertainment for us."

"Yeah, very wonderful entertainment," Draco tried to look serious as well. "And how original, and clever, the Goblet of Beauty! I'd never have guessed! If it were in my power, I'd give ten points for Gryffindor for the first time in my life, for the imaginary usage of brains!"

The Slytherins giggled. Lavender looked smug, not catching the sarcasm. Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, who were looking slightly wary but still not yet overly worried about the quarrel. Thus, he decided he could safely continue talking with his secret shag.

"Care to give me some beauty tips, then, Malfoy? We all know that you're such an expert in taking care of your looks. Weekly manicure sessions, aromatherapy massages, hair-cuts with diamond-edged scissors…"

The Gryffindors started to laugh animatedly, having actually real fun listening to the loudly-spoken conversation.

Draco wiped some greenhouse moist away from his unnaturally black eyelashes and smiled. "Yes, Potter, I honestly could give you some tips. First of all, you need to do something to your impossible raven tresses."

And, out of the blue, Draco then grabbed a heavy brine container where his Gillyweed was lolling and poured it all over Harry Potter. 

"Mmm… Much better. Wet-look's fashionable nowadays."

The Slytherins roared with laughter. Draco couldn't help starting to laugh himself when he received disgusted splutters and a heated scowl from the thoroughly soaked Harry. However, because of his hilarious reaction, Draco wasn't prepared to receive a similar can of sea water over himself. Gasping with the sudden touch of water and by-sliding weeds, he felt how his every garment glued on his skin like Weasley's shirt, leaving his fine-lined muscles exposed under the thin shirt canvas, just like Harry's now were.

"Alright! That does it!" Draco bared his teeth and attacked the sexily-wet Harry Potter. 

Harry hissed and grabbed Draco's soppy locks as the two collided, and Draco twined hands around Harry's throat. They manhandled each other for a couple of minutes heatedly, at the same time absorbing every touch and look of their glistering, wet forms and tensed muscles.

"You stupid fuck, Potter, don't fucking pull my hair like that! I'm gonna tell Professor Sprout about you!" Draco growled as Harry's palms tousled the fine, silky Malfoy hair.

"What! You fucking started it, Malfoy!" Harry snarled, enjoying very much the touch of that hair under his fingers.

"I started it? _I_ started it?" Draco cried. "Are you demented, Potter?"

"But Sprout will believe me over you anyway because she likes me better, and when I say that you started this, then you bloody right started this, you insufferable asshole!" Harry pouted, his black locks dribbling with water.

Draco wrinkled his brows, looking very menacing, but all the same leaned to whisper in the Gryffindor's ear silently, "Insufferable asshole, eh? I wasn't so insufferable this morning, was I? Or my asshole, for that matter…"

Harry yelled with annoyance and kicked Draco high on the stomach that was alluringly visible under the white, drippy canvas of his shirt. Draco winced but succeeded to thwack Harry over the cheek before doubling over. Harry replied with another kick that hit Draco on the thigh. Draco positively fumed and out of nowhere jumped over Harry, jerking the boy's feet so that they both fell on the ground, Draco on top of the amazed Gryffindor. Pinning Harry's shoulders firmly against the concrete, Draco grinned devilishly and brought his face very close to Harry's, teasingly licking the dribbling water from his own, already-delicious-looking lips. Harry was trembling with fury and fervour, his immensely green eyes wide as Trelawney's crystal balls with sudden, uncontrollable lust. 

"For fuck's sake, Malfoy!" he succeeded to rasp. "Get off me!"

"And what if I don't?" Draco leered, enjoying the uncomfortable situation he'd put Harry in. He couldn't resist leaning in, "This is just getting interesting… Especially on the lower department."

Harry fizzed and grabbed the soggy Draco from the neck, lifting his head upwards like a mother cat would carry her kittens, although Harry's grasp was a bit rougher. He succeeded to haul Draco on the side, however, not without having a great trouble immediately afterwards covering the paining erection that had previously been sheltered by Draco's body. For his luck, most of the people were more interested in watching Draco instead of him. The gorgeous Slytherin was now sitting on his knees right before Hermione and Ron, his back against them two, wiping some hair away from his glowing face. 

"Already need a time-out, Potter?"

Harry was about to retort something mean but then he saw Ron grabbing his wand and pointing it at Draco. Harry halted his breath, both worrying and wishing that Ron would turn Draco into a toad. However, Harry's expression was probably very exposing, because all of a sudden, Draco shot his hand in the air, over his left shoulder, and stole Ron's wand so quickly that the red-haired boy didn't even realize it before he had said the incantation and it didn't work.

"Well, what do we have here?" Draco's overly sarcastic voice drawled around the greenhouse. He observed the wand in his hand, giving it a very derisive stare. "Aah, this must have been _very expensive! Did you have to give head to Mr. Ollivander for this, Weasel? I'm sure your family couldn't afford _this_ kind of wand!"_

Harry clenched his fists. Ron's new wand truly wasn't very remarkable; it was just eight inches plain birch and contained a single Unicorn hair. But it wasn't really _so _bad that Malfoy would have had the reason to mock his best friend about it. Harry saw that Ron's face was pale with fear that Malfoy would snap the wand in two.

"Here's a nice-looking signature, too!" Draco continued. "Mr. Ronnekins Weasel –loser." 

The Slytherin students were in real trouble holding their stomachs from not ripping when they laughed so hard.

"Give the wand back to Ron, Malfoy!" Harry found himself roaring.

Draco merely looked at him as if he'd said something very stupid. "He was bloody trying to hex me, Potter! Do you understand what could've followed, taken that your lovable Iddekins here can't even change the colour of a rat properly?"

Now, several Slytherins truly needed to sit down or lean against the wall.

"Give. The. Wand. Back. To. Ron!" Harry breathed heavily between each command.

Draco smiled very mischievously and, without even looking at the red-head behind him, handed the wand back over his shoulder. However, when its tip was pointed straight at Harry a moment before Ron could grab it, Draco silently whispered an incantation. 

"_Serpensortia__!"_

Immediately, a little nestling of a snake emerged from the tip of the wand, landing graciously right in front of Harry. Harry looked surprised and Draco content, whereas the rest of the students looked horrified.

"Well, I can't exactly say what your twisted motives for this little trick are, Malfoy," Harry licked his lips and casually began to pull up his drenched sleeves. "But I guess you have some."

"Talk to it," Draco silently said, curiosity open over his features.

Harry looked at the blonde boy sitting right in front of him, separated only by the form of the snake, and understood Draco's motive right away. Parseltongue probably sounded very sexy. Yet, Harry wasn't about to give Draco such a favour so easily.

"Talk to it yourself," he replied, crossing his arms. "I think she's very pissed but otherwise in the mood for a small talk."

Draco sharpened his eyes and looked around. "Why's she pissed? This humid environment's just ideal for her. Thought she'd like it."

"She does. But you interrupted her sleep," Harry chuckled. He was amazed that Draco didn't move farther away from the snake like the other students did.

"Oh, whatever, Potter, like I'd care," Draco shrugged. "Now make her dance! You know, spectacled cobras are very beautiful when they perform their dance."

Harry sighed and smiled when seeing the urgency in Draco's stare. The boy really wanted to hear him talking Parseltongue. Amusedly, he glanced at the terrified Hermione and Ron before opening his mouth for a hissing conversation with the offspring of a cobra.

"Fucking amazing," Draco whispered when the snake began to dance, although still looking very pissed.

"Eeeeek! Eeeeeeeeek! What is happening here! Eeeeeek!"

It was Professor Sprout. The glass bowls flew from her hands, crashing and shattering on the concrete floor.

"Take that snake immediately out of here!" she shrieked. "Whose is it?"

Everybody's eyes, except for Hermione and Ron's, turned to look at Harry.

"Mr. Potter! This is scandalizing! Putting your fellow students' lives in danger like this! Twenty points from Gryffindor!"

Draco and the other Slytherins looked very satisfied. Ron and Hermione were just about to protest when they realized two things. First, the incantation was made with Ron's wand, and that wouldn't look good under any kind of circumstances. And secondly, Harry was really trying to hold back laughter when collecting the cobra in his arms.

Was the Pride of Gryffindor losing it completely?

By the lunchtime, Harry had mostly recovered from the greenhouse episode and the sight of the wet Draco Malfoy. He was determined to keep his eyes averted from the haughty Slytherin brag now, no matter how much his heart and body rebelled against the idea. And truly, as if ordered, Hedwig then emerged from the window and soared towards Harry, giving him something else to think about than the fine ass of a certain Slytherin.

Hedwig hooted affectionately and nibbled Harry's earlobe. So much about his decision. Harry was immediately reminded of Nocens nibbling Draco's earlobe two nights ago.

"What did you get, Harry?" asked Hermione, sipping lazily her pumpkin juice. 

"It's from Lupin," Harry replied when unfolding the parchment. "Let's see what he has to say about Voldemort."

Hermione flinched slightly, and Ron looked uncomfortable.

"Well?" Ron asked, when Harry had had the time to read the letter trough. "What?"

Harry bit his lip and looked very severe. He looked at the hasty handwriting with concern.

_Harry,_

_I write in a hurry. We just learned You-Know-Who is far ahead of his schedule than what we would've thought. He has gathered a large army of various magical beasts, number of heads at least three hundred. His plans are yet unclear, though, since he hasn't used the army in attacks this far. Be vigilant, Harry. We have suspicions that his holding his troops back might have something to do with you._

_Yours, Remus_

"It's nothing for you to worry about," Harry said, putting the letter in his pocket. "Honestly."

If Hermione and Ron suspected anything, they didn't say a thing, only looked Harry with darkened eyes. Harry knew that they were thinking he was going mad. Harry knew he should be more open with his friends. Harry knew he should talk to Dumbledore. Harry knew he should do so fucking many other things differently in his life, but really, he couldn't care. He wanted to keep his life to himself. The dangers and the wonders of it, both of them.

In the afternoon lessons of Potions, the sitting arrangement was rather curious. Harry was sitting in the front row with Pansy and Millicent, but he was still allowed to have Ron and Seamus on his other side. And what was more satisfying, Draco Malfoy with his sidekicks was sitting right behind them, as well as Lavender, Parvati and Dean.

The lesson went by rather comfortably. Professor Snape had something important to do with his papers, and he was ignoring his students almost completely, asking them to write a five-inch explanation about why Polyjuice Potion shouldn't be used under any circumstances. And since nobody could come up with any reason, they silently began to talk with each other. And since the sitting arrangement was what it was, an argument between the Malfoy gang and the Potter gang was inevitable, once again.

"I hear you have finally got together with that Mudblood Granger, Weasel," Draco drawled, smiling smugly and then artificially sighing. "Sinking even lower than your father."

Ron immediately turned in his seat to face the pale Slytherin. "If I were you, Ferret-face, I'd keep my mouth very much shut! Otherwise something nasty might fly in there."

Draco acted coy and looked down at his quill that he was holding between his fingers. It was a long, silvery eagle feather. "Oh, we're getting already so heated, are we, Ronny Pooh? Say, how would you react if I said that, besides your taste in selecting a girl is beyond comprehension, you also suck at making her happy, which drives her into the arms of another."

Harry cast Draco a horrified and pleading look. _Don't tell him, you slithery little monster! Don't you dare tell him!_

Ron gaped at Draco with extremely pissed but also nervous expression. "What do you know about making anybody happy, Malfoy?"

Draco deliberately leaned closer. And, as if accidentally, he let the feather end of his quill stroke Harry's neck, the same time he scowled at Ron. As soon as the feather touched Harry's skin, the Gryffindor froze in the spot. He couldn't suppress a raggedy inhale. 

_Oh, for all the devils in heaven…_

"I know about making myself happy," Draco smirked.

"Well yes, that is as much as obvious!" Ron seethed at Draco, completely unaware of the hilarious faces of all the Slytherins that were watching Draco's sly antics. "But why you're bringing Hermione into this, I really don't know. And I really don't care to know either. I know she's happy. Hear me? She. Is. Happy. With. Me."

"Hmm, there is only one way we could solve this little disagreement, now isn't there," Draco sneered, rolling the quill slightly and lowering it along Harry's neckline.

Harry would have wanted to retort, but found himself grabbing the table with white knuckles and holding his breath. _Malfoy…Gods, what are you doing! We. Are. In. A. Classroom! And Snape's classroom, no fucking less! _

"And pray tell me, what is that way?" Ron mocked, keeping his eyes locked with Draco's quicksilver ones.

"It's as simple as this… We just ask her. Veritaserum included."

Harry exhaled brokenly as the feather reached his ear, and suddenly retreated as Ron turned to look at him.

"Harry, why don't you say anything to this? You know how well Hermione and I are doing, don't you? Just tell him we're doing well!"

"Umm…" Harry remotely remembered what Hermione and Ginny had been talking about, after their little performance. "Er… But of course you're doing well, Ron."

Harry heard Millicent and Pansy giggling beside him, and found the innocent feather soon back and exploring the neck of his collar, immediately after Ron had turned away to smile at Hermione who was sitting on the other side of the classroom. Then Harry remembered the other Gryffindors behind him and carefully glanced over his shoulder, only to meet Draco's amused grey eyes.

"You fucking liar, Potter," Draco silently muttered, smiling lovingly. "What a friend you are, not even telling Weasel she's been cheating on him."

Harry shivered slightly when the quill was replaced with Draco's smooth fingers. But he forced himself to step out of the trance and look at his surroundings. And, for his relief, he found Parvati and Lavender talking about the beauty contest heatedly with Dean and Seamus, completely ignoring the fight that was going on over the other end of the table. Then the fingers retreated and Harry felt oddly cold.

"Harry, you think I should buy something nice to Hermione, as a gift? She does look a bit tense."

Draco chuckled, finding that his words had scared Ron, even the slightest.

"And nobody asked anything from you, Snow White!" Ron spat, crossing his arms and glaring at the Slytherin.

Draco's left eyebrow shot up. "Snow White?"

Harry forced himself to take part in the conversation. "It's a Muggle story. About an extremely beautiful princess, with ebony hair and skin as white as snow. But honestly I can't see how Ron would compare her with you, except for the skin colour part and symbolic name. She was _nice_, she _liked _poor and untidy people _and_ her bad mother-in-law tried to kill her all the time."

"Oh, yes, of coursea _Weasley would know everythingabout _Muggle _stories. Must be something they learn at home." Draco fake-sighed and shook his head, then turning back to Ron. "But honestly Weasel, if you had any brains you should compare this Snow White girl with Potterinstead of me. It goes with the ebony hair and all that stuff about some mental trying to kill her. Plus, Potter's at least as pretty as any Muggle heroine."_

Harry bit his lip. Malfoy was horribly right. It really worked with him. Even the miserable conditions at home, his ability to talk to animals, well, at least snakes, and his good cleaning skills, trained by none other than Aunt Petunia. And he was also a good cook. He was good-natured, perhaps also a bit too trusting, and he certainly was generally considered as virginal, just like Snow White.

Harry flushed when he realized he'd been thinking silently at least thirty seconds, staring all the time in Draco's exploring eyes.

"What are you meditating there, Harry?" Ron's voice made Harry start. "Is that badass trying to hypnotize you or what?"

"Er, I was just thinking that, um, maybe you really should buy something nice to Hermione. Malfoy could be right, you know. She doesn't always seem so happy."

"_What! _You say _Malfoy is right_?" Ron shrieked.

Fits of laughter from the Slytherins.

"Ron… I've made some observations myself, too. Something's, er, bothering her."

"Well, what is it?"

"I… Well… The classroom isn't the right place to talk about it, is it, Ron?" Harry managed to say, just before they found Professor Snape's black figure towering over their heads.

"Mr. Weasley! Mr. Potter! As much as I know that you need some relationship counselling from Mr. Malfoy here, I'd still suggest you do it in another time and place. Twenty points from Gryffindor."

Draco snickered heartily, and returned to Crabbe and Goyle, who were secretly eating some chopped daisy roots from a mixing bowl under the table.

Night is an inevitable guest after every sunset, even in the occasions where the sunset cannot be seen for the mist and grey rain. The rain that had continued all along the day now thickened somewhat as the darkness crept into the grounds. Heavy tapping of raindrops could now be heard as humming drumming all over the castle and the students were retreating to their respective dormitories, to have some chit chat and finally sleep.

Draco was sitting in the Slytherin common room, surrounded by many of his friends. Tracey, Mary-Ann and Blaise were musing whether any of the Slytherin girls would get votes for the prettiest face of the school from Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs, let alone Gryffindors. Bole and Warrington were having a heated argument with Crabbe and Goyle, having found out that those two dimwits had been stealing some of the booze that was left from Halloween, which the elder boys had stored up in their dormitory room. Millicent was sitting at Draco's feet with Pansy, braiding the blonde girl's hair in a fond manner. And Montague was having his own way with Etre in the shadowy corner, making some awfully inspiring moans echo around the dungeon room. Draco sighed and diligently continued to read the Daily Prophet in his hand. Or at least that was what he wanted the other Slytherins to think he was doing.

Staring blankly at the double page where he had found a test 'Is Your Lover the Right One for You', he came to think of Harry Potter, once again.

_I know I've been having too much fun today. Spect he now bloody thinks that we're an item. Which we're not._

Draco forced his eyes to read the text for a while. 'Does she/he weaken your memory so that you often have to use a Remembrall?' the magazine asked.

_What the fuck? No, he does not. I remember everything clearly as gin. _

'Is there something about her/him besides the outer appearance that draws you to her/him?'

_Bloody hell there is! He's just a good fuck._

Here, Draco felt a bit insecure, though. But he still tried to convince himself that there was nothing sexy in the way Harry talked, in the way he acted, in the way he thought about things…

_Alright, alright! All fucking right! Perhaps he's got the touch. Yeah. …And we go forwards with this stupid query…_

'Does she/he make you laugh?'

_No, he does not. We never laugh together. He always laughs with the Weasel and the Mudblood. Never with me._

'Has she/he told you that you mean a lot to her/him?'

_No, he has not. Merlin forbid, if he ever dares to say something like that to me, I'll be running out of the castle before he'll be able to finish his sentence._

'Have you told her/him that she/he means a lot to you?'

_Of course not, you brainless twat! Guess how fast he'd run if I told him something stupid like that!_

Draco exasperatedly threw the Daily Prophet into the flames that were roaring in the fireplace.

_My Father comes tomorrow, and I'll receive the Dark Lord's instructions for Hailie's birthday. Mooning over Harry Potter doesn't really fit in the picture, now does it? _

Draco closed his eyes and leaned to the backrest of the sofa.

_Okay, he might be rather excellent, even the best fuck I've ever had, but I really don't see the reason why I should start to like him. Sex is sex, love is another thing. Wouldn't do me any good, that sort of a feeling._

Draco excused himself and retreated to bed.

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update… Lol, and I continue using names of well-known songs as my headlines… *ahem* I promise it won't become a habit.

A/N II: AND I continue with Blaise Zabini as a girl… My mistake, long ago, but won't correct it… SO sorry.


	18. Family Portraits

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update… Lol, and I continue using names of well-known songs as my headlines… *ahem* I promise it won't become a habit.

A/N II: AND I continue with Blaise Zabini as a girl… My mistake, long ago, but won't correct it… SO sorry.

**18. Family Portraits**

The Thursday opened as rainy as the previous day. However, the melancholy weather did not stop the cheerful babbling that was carrying all over the Great Hall from the Gryffindor breakfast table. Draco glared at the direction, finding the golden trio sitting huddled together as always, next to Longbottom, Thomas and Finnegan. He snorted half audibly, finding himself a bit jealous. Not entirely because Harry shared his attention with those worthless Gryffindor mooncalves, but because he had somebody to share it in the first place. Obviously Potter wasn't as unfortunate as Draco what it came to his friends –he wasn't forced to stand the company of the two slowest goons in Hogwarts' history.

"You want some omelette, Draco?"

Draco's eyes snapped quickly from the painful view to Gregory Goyle, and he made a real effort to hold back a sigh.

"No thanks, Greg. I'm fine as it is."

"But you haven't eaten anything! Only had one cup of coffee!"

"And a cigarette earlier this morning," Draco pointed out, feeling dull.

"Your family's coming over this afternoon, right? I take it you're nervous?" put in Vincent, having great fun in digging the jam out of a muffin with his tongue.

Draco looked elsewhere, feeling disgusted. "Why should I be nervous about my family coming over, Vin?"

The both fat simpletons exchanged a look which Draco quite couldn't place.

"What?"

"Um," started Gregory, "Draco, we know certain things. About you and…" he leaned to whisper, "…We know you have been Called."

Draco looked at them with slightly amazed expression. "Now do you really?"

Vincent leaned across the table, however not completely without difficulties because of his large stomach that got in the way.

"Draco, our fathers know your father. We hear things at home. And we get information via fire talking and letters as well."

"I didn't know you two could fire talk," Draco mocked, "And I seriously didn't expect your fathers to be such dimwits as to send that kind of information written in a parchment!"

Both Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be pondering the issue, however not quickly enough to understand its importance. Draco let out the sigh he had been holding back ever since he entered the breakfast.

"Don't tell me this is an open issue in Slytherin?"

"Er, well… It kind of is. We told Pansy and she told everyone else."

Draco leaned backwards so hard that he was very lucky to be sitting next to a wall, which now evidently prevented him from collapsing on his back onto the floor.

"I can't believe this!" he whined, closing his eyes. He felt an anger, stronger than never before, intrude his chest.

_I am as good as dead. If Dumbledore finds out… If Potter finds out... God…_

Vincent eyed the Malfoy heir warily, "Draco? Pansy wanted us to ask you something."

"And pray, what is that!" Draco whimpered pitiably, close to hex his dorm mates into oblivion.

"How are you going to deal with the Wonder Boy after you join the Dark Lord?"

Draco opened his eyes slightly, so that they were only two narrow silvery stripes. He was gnashing his teeth. "What I do with the 'Wonder Boy', is not bloody any of your business."

"Yea, but what the Wonder Boy does with _you_ after he finds out, now _that_ is our business. We worry about you, Draco," Vincent said, however not sharing his attention with anything else than his cucumber porridge.

Draco didn't reply, only finished his already cold coffee.

_If they would worry about me, they wouldn't be talking about this matter in the first place, those brainless fuckwits… Lord, what am I going to do now? Father's coming over this afternoon, and he probably gives me more specific information about the Dark Lord's plans. I must tell him that there's a security leak in the Crabbe and Goyle family lines. Oh, the pink fairies in hell, I can almost count the hours before this little piece of juicy information is spread all over the school. That Pansy girl just can't keep her mouth shut… First it will be Ravenclaw… then Hufflepuff… and finally Gryffindor and Saint Potter._

Draco was so furious he found it hard to breathe. Therefore he left the table, without even looking at his friends. He headed up the stairs, towards the Divination classroom where his first lesson would start in fifteen minutes.

_Really, what will happen when Potter finds out? He will probably put a stop to our nice affair and hand me over to the Order. Or then again, he is such a good Gryffindor hero boy that he might as well try and make me join the Order's side. Hah! He can try!_

Draco frowned. He wasn't really thinking highly about the Order of the Phoenix. He was sure that the Order would fall apart when encountering the new might of Lord Voldemort. Draco dodged a trap stair and slipped his school bag over his other shoulder.

_But what if Harry Potter really doesn't even try to stop me? Now there we would have an interesting situation. First of all, he could just shrug and say good luck, see you in hell. That would mean he doesn't care a shit about me. That would mean he thinks I'm not worth anything, not good enough to fight in the Light side. _The thought made Draco even angrier, if possible. _Fuck you Potter! I'm as good a wizard as you, if not even better!_

However, sooner than soon, Draco had a new expression over his features. A predatory smirk. 

_But what if my plan truly succeeds? What if Potter really falls in love with me? That isn't impossible, taken that I am such a good lover, plus I am damn good looking. Not to mention that I've got still over a week time before Hailie's birthday party. And then… I could hand him over to the Dark Lord, and the __Phoenix__ would fall._

There was a nasty itch in Draco's chest. 

_Oh, don't start with me now! I've made my mind! _

However the prickling didn't cease but only increased. Draco tried to forget about betraying Harry and thought about other possibilities still.

_Hey, I could really become friends with the Scar-head. Yes, I really think we could manage to be friends. And there follows that I could get to convert Potter. What if I was able to make Potter join the Dark side with me? _

Draco shook his head and kicked the wall, getting an annoying stripe of stone dust over his shining black leather shoe.

_I'm becoming mentally ill. Soon I guess I see a little devil sitting on my shoulder, shaking with creepy, evil laughter and poking me with a fork. I must be totally insane, even thinking that Saint Potter would join the Dark Lord's side. That would be the last thing he'd ever do._

Harry Potter had rolled out of his bed very late that morning. Therefore he was on a very good mood, laughing with his friends at everything possible. He watched as Draco Malfoy left the breakfast table earlier than any of his Slytherin friends, looking highly irritated. Harry was very careful to let his gaze fall off the gorgeous boy only after a few seconds, so that his friends wouldn't notice and start to say things like 'he's only a git' or 'forget him' or 'ignore him'. 

For how could Harry Potter forget or ignore Draco Malfoy?

He couldn't.

Harry couldn't help going giddy every time Draco was nearby. The Slytherin's plain presence seemed to evoke such strong feelings nowadays that Harry was often truly afraid of them breaking his ribcage. He knew Draco Malfoy was venom that polluted his blood, making the veins bump the red liquid harder than necessary, especially in places he last would have wished. And yet he wouldn't have parted with the feeling for all his life was worth.

Harry had now accepted the fact that 'he was a little bit gay'. That there was 'only one boy he liked that way', and it was Malfoy. He still kept completely ignoring the fact that he did pay attention to other men as well, even though they did not compare to Draco at any level. He still totally shook off the fact that he hadn't checked out any single girl after the Lavender episode, and wasn't even about to. There was certainly enough to check out in once certain show-off Slytherin.

But Draco had been strangely distant this morning. Only once had he glanced at Harry's direction, and with no flirt in that gaze, either. It had been a sulky glare. And that was what made Harry now uncomfortable.

_Yesterday was so much fun… I really thought I had him around my finger. He seemed to be so happy, so daring and so funny, as if he'd honestly been enjoying my company. I actually thought I was close to win this battle… Win his heart… But I guess I was wrong. He seems to be more than distant today, avoiding my stare. _

"Harry, look mate, it's Lavender again! Look what she's wearing this morning!" Ron interrupted Harry's thoughts, poking his shoulder.

Harry slowly raised his eyes from the empty seat of Malfoy and took a look at the direction everybody else was gaping. There stood Lavender, in front of the teachers' table, wearing a tight white mini skirt and a small, sky-blue T-shirt with the text 'Blondes rule'. Her hair was glowing weirdly, as if she'd been adding some kind of star dust potion to it, and she tried to balance with high-heeled pink shoes.

"What in the name of Morgan is she doing?" Harry winced, grimacing with horror.

"She's going to remind us to vote," Hermione dully stated, her expression being close to that of Harry's. "She told me this morning that she's been studying new glamour charms all night. She even offered to help me with my hair."

"Don't you dare do anything to your hair, Mione," Ron huffed. "I like it the way it is."

Hermione gave him a loving smile.

Harry didn't want to watch or hear Lavender. He wondered if it was anyhow possible for somebody to humiliate the Gryffindor house more than Lavender had done only in two days.

"Ron, Hermione, do you mind if I go for a little solitary walk before our lesson starts?"

"Go ahead, mate," Ron smiled, "See you then at Hagrid's."

Harry wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and rose from the table. He walked out of the Great Hall and to the entrance hall, wrapping his cloak firmly around himself. The air outside was humid and chilly, and he didn't want it to come in touch with his body. He opened the door and ran down the long stony steps, entering the freedom of the vast Hogwarts grounds. He headed his steps towards the lake.

Slight haze rose from the dark water and Harry thought the view rather comfortable. He knelt down and touched the surface, allowing himself to drift in thought.

_I wonder where my relationship with Draco is going. I really haven't been myself lately. He has changed me. He's changed be fundamentally. _

Harry watched his blurred reflection from the raindrop-dotted water. 

_First of all, I think I don't love Ron and Hermione anymore unconditionally. I've started to search for faults in them. Doubt their motives of being my friends. And that is all Malfoy's doing. He's such a git. Wish he didn't sear my hear that mucht…_

Harry huddled himself in a smaller heap. He inhaled the scent from his blouse that carried Malfoy's magic. 

_He has also made me question my own doings and decisions. He's made me weak. I know his father is none other than Lucius Malfoy, and that he's expected to join that ridiculous Death Eater party of Voldemort. And that is just it. I think I've started to like him so much that I don't even doom him for that. I know our relationship is purely physical and that it won't be lasting very long, which makes me kind of blind. I really don't think much about our future. Do we even have a future? At least I know I don't want to change him. He's just perfect the way he is, a heartless prick who thinks only of his own comfort and benefits. _

Harry wiped his glasses that were dripping wet with the rain.

_Malfoy is safe. He can't break my heart. He's reliable. He is reliable in a way that he is unquestionably unreliable. _

Harry shook his head. 

_What the fuck am I thinking? That last thought doesn't make any sense whatsoever._

"Bee in your bonnet, Harry?" 

Harry spun around so suddenly that he lost his balance and fell on his butt right at the waterline. His trousers and sleeves got drenched as he tried to support himself from not falling on his back in the lake.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir," he panted, trying to haul himself up from the water. "I didn't hear you coming."

The old Headmaster smiled warmly at Harry. "I would like to have a word, Harry," he said, pointing his wand at the raven-haired Gryffindor and charming his clothes dry again. "If that is alright with you, of course."

Harry tried to smile but failed. He actually didn't want to talk to anybody right now, but Dumbledore wasn't exactly a person who to tell to sod off.

"It's okay," he muttered and folded his hands together behind his back. "What is it, Headmaster?"

"I have sensed that you have been recently struggling internally," Dumbledore said with severe tone. "I only wanted to ask you, is there anything you would wish to tell me?"

Harry raised both his brows, unaware of himself mimicking Draco Malfoy rather perfectly. "No sir. Nothing."

"Harry… It is in my knowledge that you prefer to keeping your problems inside and not telling anybody about them. But let me advice you… If there is somebody you think you could talk to…"

"Headmaster, what makes you think that I have problems?" Harry asked, a bit annoyed.

"Well, Harry… You haven't been acting like yourself lately. You have showed certain signs of… darkness… in your character."

"And what does that exactly mean?" Harry asked. He was beginning to be very doubtful towards Dumbledore now. This was namely the first conversation between them two when Dumbledore hadn't tried to answer his questions with another question, but been strictly worried and forthcoming.

"I have heard that you have found a way of spending your spare time without your usual friends. You have treated some of your housemates very unfairly, and you have been fighting awfully often nowadays. Halloween was exceptionally weird with you sitting all by yourself at the table and ignoring everybody else. That is not like you, Harry. You have become more distant than before. You have also avoided me. Harry… These all observations bring me back to my first question. Is there anything you wish to tell me? Anything at all?"

Harry bit his lip and shifted. "It's nothing but usual teenager stuff, really, Headmaster. I… I have found someone."

"Indeed?" Dumbledore's eyes began to twinkle.

Harry made a great effort not to grin. "I thought you knew everything that was going on in the castle, sir."

"That is a common belief, I must admit. But wouldn't it be awful if it was true?"

Harry now genuinely smiled. "Suppose it would."

"May I ask if this new relationship that you were talking about… Has that been the reason to your unusual behaviour?"

"We have had a rough start, sir," Harry tried to think what else he could say without completely exposing his relationship to the clever older wizard. "And I think I've been a little insecure with my own… sexual orientation."

"Ah," was all the Headmaster could produce.

"What I mean to say, sir, is that my relationship has been of a rather interesting kind, and that has caused my odd behaviour."

There was a look of curiosity in Dumbledore's eyes, but it was suppressed quickly. "Then I guess I can be restful, Harry. I am glad that the explanation was this simple. I was merely worried that your scar might have been smarting again."

"No sir, it is nothing like that," Harry replied hastily. He would have wanted to add that, even if it _would_ have been the case, he wouldn't necessarily have told Dumbledore anyway.  "Er, this is just something I need to take care on my own. Some personal stuff with… with my boyfriend."

The annoying twinkle was back in the Headmaster's gaze. "You do that, my lad, you do that."

Harry smiled and turned to look at the lake. Albus Dumbledore understood the hint and headed back towards the castle.

The whole forenoon drifted by rather non-eventfully. Care of Magical creatures brought Harry to think of Draco yet again, when Hagrid continued with the Hydra nestlings he'd bought from a stranger in Hog's Head. Draco likewise spent the whole Divination class thinking about Harry, completely disobeying Trelawney, not giving one look at the crystal ball. Herbology and Transfiguration, which the Gryffindors shared with the Slytherins, went over with Draco trying his best to ignore Harry for emotional and self-protective reasons, and Harry trying his best to get Draco's attention, craving for acknowledgement. Other than that, there was nothing happening that should be mentioned –except for one thing.

There was a great improvement in the general appearance of the students -if not counted Draco Malfoy, of course. He couldn't possibly have been better-looking than what he already always was. But as to the Nearly Everybody Else… They had done their hair extra carefully, were wearing their best outfits, and were trying to get their fellow students to admire them. Harry found this all showing off ridiculous, and the most ridiculous of them all were Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. They had obviously found a completely new level of using glamour charms. 

"Who are you going to vote, Harry?" asked Neville in Herbology. 

"Well, I didn't think of voting at all, Neville," Harry replied, smoothing the nearly full-grown gillyweed in his bowl.

"But you _must put your cross on the ballot parchment! They're going to draw lots and two of the voters will win a trip to Ilfracombe!"_

"Ilfracombe?"

"It's the resort town on the northern coast of Devon, Harry," Hermione informed with her usual know-it-all tone. "There was an infamous attack of a Welch Green Dragon on Muggles on a beach in 1032. They were barely saved by Tilly Toke, Order of Merlin First Class, who wiped the Muggles' memories afterwards."

"Okay," Harry shrugged. "So what's the fun in that? The attack was like seventy years ago. There's nothing to watch anymore, now is there?"

"Well, that depends," grinned Ron, "I hear the beach is excellent! And there are many girls in bikini…"

"Ron, the trip will take place in September, and it's definitely too cold for any girl to be on the beach in bikini then," Hermione snapped, her voice a bit stern. 

Harry simpered and Ron glared.

"So Neville, who are you going to vote, then?" Harry asked, trying politely to continue the subject at hand.

Neville smiled in a way Harry thought was naively enthusiastic. "I think Ginny is very pretty."

Ron glared even more, however not saying anything.

"And who is your choice for the best-looking guy, then?" Harry encouraged his classmate.  
Neville looked a bit insecure. "Well, don't you think Dean's rather good-looking, Harry? I mean, he's really in shape and he's also a Gryffindor."

"Yes, he's very fit indeed," Harry grinned, smiling at Dean's direction, finding his dorm-mate once again rather hot in his camouflaged blouse. Then Harry shifted his eyes towards the Slytherin group and found a pair of jealous-looking grey eyes. He grinned even wider. "Dean is certainly in the top five," he added audibly enough for Draco to overhear.

The grey eyes turned away, sulking.

"Ron, how about you?" Neville wanted to know.

"Hm, I think it's rather obvious that I'm going to vote my two best friends," Ron smiled. "Hermione and Harry."

"What is with you all Gryffindors, voting only your own housemates?" asked Tracey Davies, who passed by Neville and Ron, in order to go to the salt water well. "Inbreeded species, the Gryffindor lion is."

"Mind your attitude, Davies," Ron huffed. "The fact that every Slytherin is so damn ugly is only one of the many reasons we don't even consider voting them."

"Every Slytherin ugly?" Tracey turned around, her eyes trailing towards Harry. She smiled prettily and asked, almost winking her eye, "Do you think that, as well, Potter?"

Harry flushed. He really didn't like to answer that question. Therefore he decided to 'accidentally' drop his gillyweed bowl, which allowed him to escape the situation under the table. He didn't hear how Draco sniggered with Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle. He didn't see the puzzled look on Hermione, Neville and Ron's face. He just flushed.

It was a very grey day, although not nearly as vivid a grey as Draco Malfoy's eyes at that precise moment when his family arrived in the Hogwarts grounds. Draco was waiting for his father and mother at Hogwarts' main entrance, standing in a proud poise. Lucius walked the steps up to him and smiled graciously.

"You look good, Draco," Lucius said as his greeting.

Draco looked smug. "So do you, father."

"Dragon, darling, I have missed you!" Narcissa Malfoy sang from behind her husband's back. "Come, let me see you!"

Narcissa was beaming. She was as beautiful as ever, slowly ascending the steps with a two-year-old child in her arms. Draco went over and placed a kiss on the back of her hand. 

"Mother."

"Draco! Dracodracodraco!"

Draco looked surprised and met the huge shiny eyes of his little sister. "Hailie? You've learned to say my name?"

The child giggled and clapped her tiny hands. "Draco!"

"She repeats nearly everything she hears, nowadays," Narcissa told, "She is learning quickly."

"Which annoys me exceedingly sometimes," Lucius put in. "Especially when we have guests and she decides to learn words not yet meant for her knowledge."

"I understand," Draco's mouth twisted with hilarity. He could almost hear his little sister shouting words like 'Death Eater', 'Killing curse' or 'Dark Master' in public areas.

"Shall we get inside already?" inquired Lucius, looking at some third-year Hufflepuff students with distaste, making them flinch and escape. "I'd rather have a cup of tea."

"Of course, father," Draco guided his family inside the huge oak doors.

Harry Potter was watching the Malfoys' arrival with Ron and Hermione, standing in a shadowy corner in front of the staircase that led down to the Slytherin dungeons. Ron whispered that he had never seen such amount of silvery-white hair, paleness and snobbery before. Harry only smiled, thinking that Draco really was a younger version of Lucius Malfoy, even though he had her mother's nose and naturally black eyelashes. Harry imagined that if he ever would have a future with Draco, Lucius was exactly what Draco would look like when being forty-five. And even though Lucius was a total badass Death Eater, he was still awfully handsome. Smiling weirdly, Harry kept on observing the Malfoys.

"Professor Snape was kind enough to let us use his private lounge while we need to talk," Lucius smiled his creepy smile while walking towards the dungeons. "However, Narcissa my love, I think this conversation isn't yet meant for Hailie's ears."

The beautiful woman understood what his husband was saying, and turned her gaze towards a group of three sixth-year Slytherin girls hanging by a windowsill. They all were looking at the visitors in awe. 

"Could you girls keep an eye on Draco's little sister for a while for me?" Narcissa asked Pansy Parkinson, giving her a brilliant smile of a half Veela.

"Most certainly, milady," Pansy squealed, with obvious delight and admiration. 

"We would do anything for you," Millicent echoed, also dazzled by the attraction of Draco's mother.

Narcissa smiled. "I'm glad to hear Draco has good and thoughtful friends in his house, such as you."

Pansy went to sit on the windowsill and Narcissa gave Hailie in her arms. Almost instantly, a horrible yell echoed around the aisle and Hailie started to cry. And even in less time than instantly, Lucius Malfoy turned on his heels and strode over, taking Hailie's little face between his fingers and scowling at her daughter.

"Stop that whining right now, Hailie! Malfoys never cry."

The little girl silenced in a second, looking at her father with her huge, grey eyes. Harry, Hermione and Ron exchanged meaningful looks in the shadows where they were standing. They couldn't quite say if the two-year-old really understood what her father had said, or if she just reacted to the cold way Lucius was looking at her.

"He's a monster," Hermione whispered, "I almost can understand why Draco grew up so horrible, now."

Harry flinched at the mention of Draco's name, but didn't say anything. Instead, he watched as Lucius guided his only son out of view down in the dungeons. 

"Now, remember what your father said, Hailie," Narcissa quickly embraced the girl's cheek, also turning to leave. "I will be back in thirty minutes."

Hailie Anguis merely glared, her mien darkening with every step Narcissa took away from her. And when her mother was completely out of sight, the little Malfoy audibly growled and started to writhe out of Pansy's arms.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Pansy tried to keep the girl steady. "Calm down, Hailie! Mommy will be back in no time!"

However, the attempts to restrain the little monster were futile. Hailie started to yell with fury and kick around, and Pansy was forced to hand her over to Millicent. Millicent was horrified, since she had never in her life held a child in her arms, and her horror deepened when she received a bite on her upper arm from the Malfoy heir. 

"You take her!" Millicent shrieked and hauled Hailie in Blaise Zabini's lap. Blaise received a slap over the cheek and went almost deaf with Hailie's loud protest yells.

Ron, Hermione and Harry giggled in their corner. "Lucius taught her well. She really isn't crying."

Blaise got very quickly annoyed with Draco's sister and yanked her back to Millicent. Millicent tried to roll her back to Pansy, who had, however, escaped the battle zone. 

"Give her to that Granger girl," Pansy pouted when noticing the group of Gryffindors standing nearby. "Bet she can handle her!"

Harry and Ron roared with laughter as Millicent came and nearly threw the biting and kicking and yelling girl in Hermione's arms. Hermione, instead, was pale with horror.

"What if the Malfoys return and find their precious princess in the arms of a Mud-blood?" she exclaimed, trying to make Harry hear her comment through the noise Hailie was making. "I really don't want to get hexed by Lucius. Besides, this girl is scraping my arms and kicking my stomach very hard."

Ron only giggled, thinking how the Malfoy family would be displeased to find their child in a Muggle-born's arms. Harry, however, understood the situation a little better, and offered to take the girl. Hermione was more than ready to oblige, and not entirely unlike Millicent, she threw Hailie as far away from herself as possible. Harry caught her swiftly and positioned her over his right flank, making her legs spread on either side of his hips, just the way he'd seen Narcissa carry her. Then he raised his free hand to wipe some soft tendrils away from her eyes and smiled at her.

And a miracle it was. Hailie stopped screaming and smiled back.

If Colin Creevey would have been close by with his camera, it would've been his lucky day. All the girls around Harry and Hailie had similar expressions of awe and anxiety, their jaws hanging close to the floor with surprise. Ron's expression was also priceless, with its petrified state of pale horror.

But as it was, Harry saw none of this. He was only concentrated in the pretty blonde child in his arms, who reminded him quite amazingly of Draco. Hailie's eyes were perhaps slightly darker shade of grey, and her hair still partly consisted of baby wisps, but the resemblance was still clearly there.

"Hello, Hailie Malfoy," Harry grinned, receiving a delighted giggle from the girl. "My name is Harry Potter."

The child smiled so widely Harry thought she could easily outshine the sun. "Arry!"

"Yes, I'm Harry."

Hailie giggled again and lifted her tiny hands over Harry's cheeks. She fiddled with his fingers for a moment and then grabbed Harry's eyeglasses.

"You don't like them either?" Harry asked, not paying attention to who was listening.

Hailie threw the glasses on the floor with all the force a two-year-old could possess and they actually went broken.

"Harry, be careful with her!" Ron stuttered, still somewhat shaken with the fact that his best mate was carrying Draco Malfoy's sister, and fondly so.

"Don't mind repairing those glasses, Mione," Harry said, smiling at Hermione who had picked the frames up in order to do another _'oculus reparo' on them. "Just let them. I don't need them anymore. I think I see my life more clearly without them."_

Hermione and Ron only stared at their best friend in shock.

Snape's lounge was surprisingly decorated with no other colours than black and Slytherin green. Draco vaguely thought that his favourite Professor was actually rather dull forty-year-old chap with nothing in his person to evoke interest, if not his awful, daily and mostly-without-reason scowls. Lucius conjured a silencing charm around them and elegantly slid his serpent-gripped wand back into the long, black cane it was hidden in.

"I do not have much time, my son. There's an army of over four hundred soldiers, waiting on the Isle of Skye, Cuillin ridge, more precisely in the shelter of Gars-bheinn. It was well hidden until there was a security leak we haven't yet placed. The Dark Lord now needs to hurry up with his schedule, and I must run." 

"I understand, father," Draco said, thinking if he should mention that the security leaks were most likely the senior Crabbe and Goyle.

"Let's get straight to the matter at hand," Lucius continued. "You did understand from my letter that your initiation shall be taking place in the end of the next week, I presume?"

"Aye, I did. I was just wondering why it is happening this early. I know I'm nearly fully trained, but my school is still continuing. I thought I had the time to graduate first."

"You shall graduate, my son. This has nothing to do with that. Actually, your first mission shall be taking place in here, inside the walls of this castle."

"Are you going to attack Hogwarts, father?" Draco asked, successfully trying not to sound worried. "Do I need to find a way to destroy the wards or something?"

"Yes, attacking Hogwarts is our eventual plan," replied Lucius, taking a bite from a croissant. "But you need not to worry about that just yet. Our Master has other plans for you."

"Of course."

"Now tell me Draco… How's Harry Potter doing these days?"

Draco looked a little disturbed by this question but succeeded to answer dispassionately enough. "He's become an awfully good wizard during these last two years of education, and I expect he's received also some considerable amount of private training from our former DADA Professor, Remus Lupin. He can be a tough bite when the Dark Lord decides to attack. We mustn't forget that Potter's already won the Dark Lord four times, and is not willing to lose this time, either."

The corner of Lucius' mouth twisted into a little sneer. "That is what I am here to talk to you about, my son. We need _you to take care of that Potter boy."_

Draco looked beyond amazed. "Me? Whatever for? I couldn't…"

"Listen to what I have to say, son," Lucius interrupted, rather impatiently. "You don't need to kill him. But, the Dark Lord believes that he cannot personally surprise Mr. Potter because of that weird scar-hurting thing. Therefore he needs a minion who will not evoke suspicion, but who is also nearly as powerful as Potter and can use his magic satisfactorily enough against the Wonder Boy. Therefore, the Dark Lord needs _you, Draco. He wants you to shake Potter's personal life. He needs you to keep him busy, not thinking about the war. He wants you to try to make Potter's suspicions target on yourself instead of him. Keep Potter confused."_

"Keep him confused…?"

"In general opinion, you are yet too young to be a Death Eater, Draco. That gives you the air of innocence, despite the fact that you and Potter have been arguing lately so often. The general opinion is that you've been brainwashed by your horrible parents to treat Mr. Potter awfully. The professors are thinking it is just a childish act of a badly guided teenager boy. Which, I know, it is not. I did ask you to befriend with Potter in the beginning, didn't I? The hatred you've created towards him, is solely your own doing, Draco."

"I know."

Lucius laughed. "It is rather amusing, though, the way you continue feeding your anger. I receive at least four reports in a week from Snape about how appallingly you have once again been behaving."

"You do?"

Lucius waved his hand dismissively and simpered. "I never care. I wouldn't punish you for something like that. Potter deserves at least somebody to hate him."

Draco snorted and conjured both his father and himself two cigarettes from his trouser pocket.

"Father, if I may say so… I don't quite follow the Dark Lord's reason here. This whole plan sounds very… badly founded. Very stupid. How can he expect me to succeed in blowing up Potter's perfect little life?"

"Well, yes, it is probably the worst idea he's ever had," Lucius said nonchalantly, taking a draft from his cigarette. "But I have actually no real choice in the matter of telling you these orders. Do you honestly think I'd wish my only son to tamper with Potter?"

"Well, what the hell do I need to do to make the Hero Boy confused? Jinx his head off? For fuck's sake, there's but a week time! And he's not that easily crushed, you know! He's strong!"

"Yes, well, the Dark Lord expects you to do your best. This isn't the first time he requests impossible things from his servants," Lucius sounded bored.

"And tell me, what happens if I don't succeed?" 

_Or what if I don't want to succeed?_

"You know what happens, Draco," Narcissa spoke for the first time, looking strikingly pretty even when worried. "He'll cast a _Cruciatus_ on you. A very powerful one. You've seen it in action many times, and know how it can hurt."

Lucius smiled painfully, obviously remembering the feeling. "Indeed, using the Unforgivables is the Dark Lord's style."

Draco swallowed. "Alright… Tell me what I need to do after I get under Potter's skin. Do I then get to jinx him headless?"

"No, that would be non-effective plus you might fail. No… You must not only get under his skin, but you also must find Potter's weak spot and destroy his spirit by attacking him from that direction. When his raison d'être is destroyed, he will be destroyed internally as well."

Draco suddenly noticed he wasn't breathing and rapidly took a couple of shallow inhales. 

_Shit… Didn't Potter just say last Halloween that his weak spot is me? ME! And he must have spoken the truth, as well. He was under Veritaserum, even if it was a diluted dose… _

Draco forced himself to inhale a third time. 

_Must I destroy myself in order to destroy him? Must I destroy the both of us?_

"But I've got only a week…"

"Irrelevant. Let us just hope that you will somehow be able to bring Mr. Potter at the Manor when your initiation takes place. Things will be getting a rather exciting turn then," Lucius simpered.

"At the Manor?" Draco knew he looked distracted, and made an effort to sit in a more composed position.

"Yes. Once Potter is a wreck, you must find a way to bring his spiritless person in front of our Master. He will be continuing from there. He will be attending Hailie's birthday party next week, and will make you one of his servants –if you succeed in this first task he's given to you."

Draco carefully encountered his father's eyes that were so much like his own. "I will try my best, father. I don't want to let him down. Although I think this is a very decrepit plan of a very decrepit mind."

Both Lucius and Narcissa exchanged amused expressions. They were very proud of their son, and were highly amused the way the young man thought Lord Voldemort wasn't anymore in the best of his understanding. 

They were interrupted then by a Malfoy house-elf that came stuttering inside, telling that little Hailie Anguis was now in the arms of the terrible Harry Potter. Narcissa ran from her chair in panic, but Lucius caught her hand. 

"Darling, I think Draco should take care of this particular situation," he smiled wickedly.

Harry was walking back and forth along the aisle in front of the Slytherin staircase, blabbering non-sensible gibberish with the girl in his arms. He completely ignored Hermione and Ron, who were watching him in a horrified daze. They highly disapproved that Harry would hold a Malfoy, even if it was a little girl. But since neither of them nor none of the Slytherin girls were ready to take the watch, Harry was let to continue with his doings.

"You are a very pretty girl, did you know that?" Harry asked the smiling child, playing with the soft white tendrils that fell like slightly curling silk down the girl's back. "But you really should behave yourself. You cannot kick and bite people. Hasn't your daddy told you that?"

"Daddy!" Hailie repeated, rather loudly.

Harry was amused to receive several terrified-to-death glances from his observers. Especially Ron looked like he'd have sat on a hedgehog, simultaneously eating those slugs he once upon a time had vomited in Hagrid's cabin, after a very embarrassing scene of unsuccessfully hexing Draco Malfoy. Harry understood that they thought Hailie had called _him her father, and giggled along with the girl._

"You are really funny, Hailie. Did you know that?"

"Potter!"

Harry recognized the voice immediately. It belonged to Draco Malfoy, none other. He slowly turned around and saw the blonde Slytherin approaching. Millicent and Pansy immediately followed their leader, apologizing weakly that they couldn't keep their promise to his mother.

"Malfoy," Harry replied, still somewhat sniggering. "Good day to you too."

"I see you've become friends with my little sister," Draco drawled with his usual style, stepping right in front of the Gryffindor, looking somewhat menacing.

Harry took Hailie from the armpits and gave her to Draco, smiling still. "She broke my glasses. I take it she didn't like them either."

Draco tried not to smile back, however still his mouth curled. "We Malfoys like it classy. She's got her brother's eye."

"Draco!" Hailie giggled. "Draco and Arry!"

Harry flushed and Draco snorted. 

"Draco and Harry, eh?" Draco grinned at the little toddler that was now giving wet kisses on his cheek. "Did Harry treat you well, ladybug?"

"Arry is good," was the firm answer. "He is no good." Hailie pointed her finger towards Ron.

Draco scowled at the direction of Ronald Weasley. This woke Ron from his odd trance and the redhead strode over to them, Hermione following suit.

"Harry, come on, let's go," Ron said silently. "Malfoy, it's not Harry's fault that your little monster of a sister was in his arms. It was Pansy and Millicent's doing. So sod off and punish your own housemates with your company."

"Weasel, can't you see we're for once trying to have a civilized conversation with Potter here," Draco cast icicles at Ron with his eyes. "So don't interfere."

Hermione huffed at Ron's side, lifting her hazel eyes murderously at Draco. "Civilized conversation? How can you talk about civilized conversation, being everything but civilized yourself, Malfoy? Calling Harry's friends Mud-bloods or Weasels is not exactly that refined a habit, you know."

Draco raised an elegant right brow and Hailie repeated the word 'Mud-blood' very happily. 

"Granger, for the sake of your own sanity, I hope you don't put your nose into this. You don't have to know it _all_, now do you?"

"Malfoy…" Harry glared.

Hermione merely looked confused, once again that day. Ron eyed both Harry and Malfoy warily. Harry knew this look and decided not to give Ron any more reason to be suspicious. 

"Malfoy you sod, don't talk that way to my friends. Ron, Hermione… Let's go to the dinner."

Harry gave Draco a very meaningful look and turned on his heels. Ron grinned victoriously at the Slytherins, hauling Hermione under his arm and following his best mate. Draco looked like an angry scorpion, ready to poison everyone who would come near him.

"Draco and Arry!" giggled Hailie.

Millicent, Pansy and Blaise tittered.

Now it was Draco's turn to blush.

Harry walked round the corner. Then he abruptly turned around, took out his wand and returned to the Slytherin aisle, casting a spell towards Malfoy. It was a sort of silvery dart, in the form of a miniature wraithlike bird. It flew around Draco's head and then plunged inside, vanishing. The quicksilver eyes met the emerald for split second in understanding, before their owners went in their separate ways.

The evening fell. Draco was playing a chess match with Zabini in their common area. However, he made his moves in a disinterested manner, his thoughts dwelling on the things he'd heard from his father that day.

The Malfoy family hadn't stayed but two hours, and most of the time they'd been talking about the war in Professor Snape's lounge. Draco had received some more information about Lord Voldemorts army and movements, and was now aware that the deadly group consisted of several magical beasts, among which could be found thirty-two Chaos Hyrda's, a group of twenty Giants, two Black Dragons of the race of Hungarian Horntail, five White Dragons from the snowfields of Lapland, and also a very rare thing –a half-grown nestling of a Basilisk. There were, of course, also several other beasts in that group, but Draco was now too tired to remember them all.

"Something bothering you babe?" asked Blaise, worriedly looking at Draco. "Is it about Potter?"

Draco bit his lower lip. He didn't quite know how to put his thoughts in words.

"Blaise… I know that you know that I'm becoming a Death Eater. Okay, that sounded very stupid. But anyway… Pansy probably has told everybody in this room. And becoming a Death Eater... Well, it has been my aim through all my life. But, that future prospect really fights with me being in intimate terms with Potter, if you know what I mean."

Blaise rose up and circled the table, sitting on the handrail of Draco's armchair, twining her arms around him. "That's what we've been worried about, Pansy, Mary-Ann and me. We think you and Potter fit well together. All that animosity changed to a fiery passion… One rarely sees such a perfect relationship."

"We don't have a relationship with Potter," Draco corrected. "We are just having fun."

Blaise hid an amused and disbelieving smile. "Sure you are. You can't make it serious because of the world that expects so much different things from you both."

Draco raised his eyes at her, looking at her oddly. "Blaise… I think I never should've gotten involved with Potter in the first place. He's purely perilous to my mind. I thought I could control him, but look what's happening. He's getting round me, Blaise. He's making me… question my choices."

Blaise smoothed Draco's locks and pressed their foreheads together. "I bet you are making him question his choices, as well."

It was eleven in the evening. Draco leaned on the wall right outside the Gryffindor common room entrance, next to the Fat Lady. The painting was giving him scolding glares and huffs, every now and then telling him to bugger off, every other second asking him what he was doing there. Some first and second year Gryffindors passed by, shocked to see the famous Slytherin leader so close to their dorms. They whispered the password to the painting so silently that the Fat Lady needed to bend down to hear them. As the portrait swung open to let the youngsters in, another person came out. 

"Already here, Malfoy? Good."

Draco looked offended. "I understand you sent that Messenger Spell so that we could talk. But what I don't understand, is why the hell do we need to meet here of all places, in the hallway of the fucking Gryffindor tower where everybody can see us."

"Calm down, precious," Harry grinned. "I want to shake the tower a bit. It's gone drowsy. Only imagine what a storm of whispers and wonders there now is in our common room."

"Very funny, but how come I'm not laughing?"

"Don't worry, you will be."

Harry took Draco from the upper arm and hauled him closer. Then he winded his Invisibility Cloak around them both.  
"We're going to have a wild fuck now," he informed. "Because you've been a dick today, ignoring me."

"I have not," Draco pouted.

"Have too," Harry snarled.

"Potter…"

"Tell me Malfoy… Do you still want me to learn how to love you?" Harry hoarsely whispered, leaning closer to the Slytherin and trailing a path of soft, hot breaths down Draco's cheek.

Draco shivered as the breaths ended up fondling his neck.

"By loving me, Potter, you are going to destroy yourself and everything you believe in. I know trouble."

"Tell me something new," Harry purred. "Just let me know if you still want my love. Because I recently found out I could actually give it to you."

Draco swallowed and closed his eyes, feeling close to euphoric as Harry slid arms around his waist and pulled him near. 

_What the fuck should I say? _Draco breathed rapidly. _Of course I want him to love me! But my motives are twisted. I need his love for two purposes. Fist, I need it for myself. But I also need it for the Dark Lord, for the betrayal. Potter really puts me in a difficult situation. Draco bit his tongue. __This is just what I meant. Potter, making me question my choices._

Harry smoothed Draco's lips with a thumb, a searching look in his bright eyes.

_Oh yes… I want him to love me so much… So very much… The whole of him should be mine… and mine alone…_

"Potter, it is not wise of you to love me," Draco finally managed to croak.

"It's not wise of me to fuck you either," Harry reminded rather unaffected.

"Good point," Draco admitted.

Harry captured Draco's lips, sucking them like they were the most delicious candy he'd ever tasted. "Come on… I want to fuck you in the Gryffindor common room."

"WHAT?"

"Hush…" Harry closed Draco's lips with his finger. "We're under the Invisibility Cloak. Nobody will see us."

"Yeah but they'll hear us! Besides, I think I can't…" Draco began to protest, going pale.

"But I can. And I want. And this was _not_ a request," Harry hissed, taking Malfoy from the neck and kissing him roughly. "You can keep your mouth shut if you don't want anybody to hear us, you twit."

And before Draco could do anything to protest, Harry had hauled him in front of the Fat Lady, spoken the password and dragged him inside.

The common room indeed was full of fuss. The youngest students were enthusiastically telling the older ones that they'd seen none other than Draco Malfoy leaning onto the wall in front of their portrait hole, and received shocked and curious inquiries in return. What had Malfoy looked like? Had he said anything? What had he been wearing? Did he do anything? Did he have his wand out? How was his hair done? The list of questions saw no end.

Harry sniggered silently and guided Draco near the chess table in the corner. Then he pinned the Slytherin against himself and yanked his trousers down.

"Make sure this thing doesn't fall off us," he quietly whispered to Draco, making the stiff-with-horror Slytherin keep the hems of the Invisibility Cloak. "It's your job to keep it around us while I make love to you."

Draco let out a little whimper when he felt Harry's finger intrude himself. "Potter, I don't think this is a good idea…" he tried to say in undertone.

"Shut up, Malfoy," was the only silent reply before another finger found its way in.

It was definitely the most interesting shag Draco had ever had. Leaning against the chess table with his arms, having Potter making his way to him from the back, they were both fully able to see and hear at least twenty Gryffindor students around, including Hermione and Ron.

"Imagine their faces if the Cloak would fall off," Harry breathed in Draco's ear at some point of their act.

Draco only concentrated in suffocating his moans of ecstacy. Indeed, the Invisibility Cloak hid them perfectly from view. But the situation was still dangerous enough to add some extra adrenaline into their veins. And this wasn't a bad thing at all. Namely, for the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy allowed himself to have an orgasm when having somebody fucking him.

"I do want you to love me… Harry…"

Later, Harry slumbered in his bed, smiling broadly in the darkness. It was nearly one in the morning, but he still hadn't gotten any sleep. He was so much in love.

"Harry?"

Harry jumped at least a half meter in the air when hearing Ron's voice next to his ear.

"Ron? What the fuck…? I mean, what's the matter?" he tried to sound sleepy.

Ron cast a soft _Lumos_ spell around them two and sat in the other end of Harry's four-poster, leaning his forehead on one of the pillars. 

"Hermione and I aren't really doing that well, Harry."

Harry wondered if he should tell Ron that he already knew, but then thought the better of it. 

"Um, don't you think you're a bit overreacting to what Malfoy said yesterday, Ron?"

"It's not just Malfoy, Harry. It's… Well… I've made some observations myself, too. And besides, even _you_ couldn't deny that yesterday when Malfoy…"

"Ron! Forget about Malfoy already. What you must understand, is that Hermione loves you very much. If there's something that's bothering her, then why don't you just ask her?"

Ron looked worried. "She has this weird look in her eyes every time I go near her. It's kind of scary. And we haven't kissed since Halloween. Not really _kissed, I mean."_

"I know," Harry spurted out, before he could help himself. "Er, I mean, I haven't seen you two snogging for a long time."

"You think it's because of me, Harry? Should I do something differently?"

Harry's green eyes bore in Ron's blue ones. "What if you would just go over to the girls' dormitory and _kiss _her?"

"But… But… I think I… Harry, I think I am a really bad kisser."

"Why would you think something like that?" Harry asked, "I am _sure Hermione wants you to just kiss her, despite any possible lack of competence. She loves you. She wants to be close to you."_

"You know, mate, you can almost make me believe that you're right."

"Why _almost?" Harry smiled._

Ron smiled back. "Because I really think I suck at kissing. And I'd like to have some practise. But that's completely impossible, now isn't it. Hermione would kill me if I practised with another girl."

"Then why don't you practise with another boy?" Harry asked, half joking.

"What? Are you serious! That's… That's…" Ron looked horrified.

"Disgusting?"

"No! That's just… weird, isn't it?"

"How come weird?" Harry asked, not remembering that he had thought similarly himself, only two weeks ago.

"Well… I am not a homophobic, if that's what you're asking, having Percy and Bill in my own family. But I've just… I've never thought about kissing another boy, myself."

Harry grinned. "It's not that bad, actually."

Ron's eyes dilated with surprise as he looked at Harry. "You're gay?"

"Only a little," Harry flushed.

"Now what the crap is that? You can't be 'only a little' gay. It's like, you either are, or you are not," Ron looked cunning.

"Don't worry, Ronnekins, I am not sexually interested in you or any of my other roommates," Harry said, blushing. "You're safe from me."

"Yes… You're interested in that Someone Else, and now I'm beginning to understand that 'she' is actually a 'he'!" Ron couldn't help grinning victoriously.

"You don't need to yell, Ron," Harry noted, embarrassed. "It's not like everybody would understand."

"I know. Percy's gone trough a hell," Ron twisted his mouth.

"So… You won't doom me for being… a faggot?"

Ron did as much as give Harry a warm hug. "Of course not. But let's not tell anybody else around here… If this spreads around, you'll be certain to have a rough time with Malfoy bullying you even more than he already does."

Harry suppressed a frantic series of snorts.

"So… Were you just suggesting that I could practise with you, mate?" Ron's blue eyes held a gleam of hilarity.

"I didn't suggest anything, but now that you mention it… I see no objection, if you wish to do so," Harry grinned.

"But what would Hermione say?" Ron looked suddenly nervous and worried.

"Don't you mind her," Harry replied, remembering again the Ginny Issue. "It's not like I'm asking you to marry me or anything. We're just practising kissing."

Ron gave a relieved sigh. "Okay. But just this one time."

"Just this one," Harry gave a laugh. "Don't be afraid."

Ron then leaned forwards and, before Harry had actually even clearly understood what they had just agreed, Harry felt new kind of lips over his mouth. Ron's kiss was perhaps too wet and definitely too eager to his taste.

"Ron, calm down," Harry pushed Ron apart. "It's not like you'd need to suffocate someone while doing it, or anything. Let me show you."

Harry imagined Draco in front of his eyes and closed the distance between him and Ron again. After some eight seconds, he stopped, only to find Ron sitting rigidly and mouth open in front of him.

"What?"

Ron closed his mouth and flushed. "Er, em, eh… I just… Must say… Whoever it then is you're seeing, he's very lucky to have you as a boyfriend. You're an amazing kisser."

"Yes, he's very lucky," Harry concurred, simpering. "But I'm lucky as well. After all, he's the one who taught me. Now get back to your own bed, you silly sod, and try to get some sleep."

…TBC…


	19. Beautiful Ones

A/N: THANK YOU EVERYONE! *wide grin* Thanks for giving me your opinion for the sexiest, prettiest and hottest girl and boy at school. The results are given in this chapter as a part of the actual plot. 

A/N II: Thanks to Neko Nicole for her fun idea. I used her suggestion about Harry dressing up.

**19. Beautiful Ones**

"Hey, where the hell are all my clothes?" 

"Oh, don't you worry, Harry, you're going to have a new set for the day."

"Dean! Seamus! What's this?"

Harry looked indignantly at the pair of trousers that Dean had just thrown in his lap. In the next moment, Seamus flung a soft-feeling white shirt over his face. 

"We won't let you enter the Great Hall in your usual hand-me-down-Dudley clothes today, now can we? It's Friday! The final day for the voting! And we want the Gryffindor to win the Sexiest Guy award!"

Harry cast daggers at Dean. "What's that got to do with me?"

"Harry, you're the best-looking bloke at Gryffindor. And you should make an effort to look like such, as well. You know how disappointed Lavender will be if our house won't win at least the other title."

"You seem to be awfully concerned about Lavender's feelings, nowadays, Dean," Harry smirked.

Dean blushed. "Um, well… You don't mind, do you?"

Harry laughed out loud and winked his eye. "No, I really don't. It didn't work between us at all. She's all yours, if she cares to have you."

Dean returned with a grin. "I certainly hope that she will!"

"Come on, guys, back to the subject!" Seamus cried. "Harry's still not wearing his clothes!"

"And am not going to!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"We can't let that Malfoy brat win the contest, now can we?" Seamus spread his arms.

"He's gonna win it anyway so what's the point?" Harry remarked.

"You don't know that he's going to win, Harry," Neville pointed out. "You shouldn't give up! You're at least as handsome as he is."

"You think Malfoy's handsome, Neville?" Harry couldn't help asking.

"Er… Well… He's not that ugly, is he? I mean, he's a total prick but… You must admit that he's got the charisma."

"I admit anything you want me to admit," Harry smiled wickedly. "He's hot."

Ron glared at Harry disgusted. "You can't be serious, mate."

"Well, of course he's not nearly as hot as I am," Harry replied with a devious smirk.

Everybody laughed. 

"Get dressed already, Harry! We want you to show off, for once in your life!" Dean jumped around with anticipation.

"Whose clothes are these, anyway?" Harry asked, tugging the tight jade trousers on him.

"Mine," Dean smiled. "Just in case you haven't noticed, I'm the fashion guru around here."

"Believe me, I have noticed," Harry muttered, slightly blushing. "Great, I look like a ponce in these."

"You look adorable," Ron chuckled. "Just adorable. Although it's weird that you don't wear glasses anymore."

"Oh joy! I look an adorable little Gryffie prince who's going down there to collect all the prices and give autographs to the admirers the rest of the evening!" Harry mocked himself. "Dean, as sexy as these clothes are, I am _not_ going down there wearing these."

"Oh, but you are," Seamus was hilarious. "Come on! Let's see what the Slytherin girls have made Malfoy wear! It's going to be a tight battle between you two, once again. However this time not at the Quidditch field."

"I don't feel like…"

"Harry, quit it already!" Ron guffawed. "Besides, I'm sure your… um… secret lover wants to see you like this."

Neville's ears shot up. "Harry's got a new girlfriend already?"

Ron looked at Harry regretfully, but Harry just laughed. "No, Neville. Our story started long before I ever dated Lavender."

Seamus and Dean surrounded Harry and started to ask questions. Harry just smiled oddly and kept his mouth shut. Then the love-sick predators, usually known as roommates, turned to Ron, who escaped immediately out of the room to meet Hermione at the common area.

"I'm not telling you who it is," Harry said as his final statement. "Not even Ron knows."

Neville, Seamus and Dean pouted. However, they settled down when Harry promised to enter the Great Hall in Dean's outfit, in return for their shut mouths.

Draco Malfoy was lazily brushing his hair in front of his mirror when Blaise, Mary-Ann and Pansy stormed in.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing, girls?" Draco scowled at the overly-enthusiastic-looking group of young witches. "I could've been in my underwear still!"

Mary-Ann giggled. "It's not like we wouldn't have seen you many times in your underwear already, Draco-buns. Besides, we know you always wake up early."

Draco eyed at the girls warily. "And what is the purpose of this visit of yours?" he inquired.

"We need to make sure you look better than usually," Pansy tittered. "Although that's a hard job we have ahead of us."

Blaise went around the Slytherin boy and placed her hands on his shoulders, standing behind Draco's back. They both looked at the full-length mirror together, Blaise trying to peer over Draco's shoulder. "You are awfully pretty, my darling. But you still should wear something more attention-drawing than your usual school robes today."

Draco felt awkward. "Prey, tell me, what the fuck for?"

"We want at least one victory to Slytherin. Not that you wouldn't win the Sexiest Boy award anyways, but we could still ensure it," Pansy declared.

"And how is that going to happen?" Draco muttered, putting his hairbrush away and turning his eyes again at the mirror.

"You're going to have to wear Armani Wizard today," Blaise said calmly. She let her long, bronze brown hair fall at Draco's chest over his shoulder. "And that's the colour."

"What? Bronze?"

"Certainly not always green and silver," Blaise commented.

"But Potter ruined my Armani shirt already weeks ago," Draco moped.

"Duh! You've got at least thirty-two of them!" Mary-Ann crossed her arms. "So don't you even try to be difficult."

Draco looked like a little boy in a temper. "I swear I don't want to take part in that silly contest."

"But you already are taking part in it," Pansy reminded him. "At least I've already given my vote to you."

The sigh of defeat was so audible that Mary-Ann threw a pillow at Draco's head. "Behave, Slytherin Prince. You're going to fight the Gryffindor Knight today… and I bet that your knight wants to have something to check out during the long classes."

Draco was glad that he didn't easily blush.

The Great Hall didn't look like the usual Great Hall at all that morning. The whole place was decorated with bunches of lavender flowers, bright white lilies, happy yellow narcissi and sweet lace-like yarrows. 

"Interesting decoration," Ron grinned. "Especially those lavenders…"

"She insisted upon them," Hermione shrugged. "But I wanted something else, as well. I did the decoration with Padma and Hannah. Padma wanted the narcissi and Hannah wanted the lilies, but I chose the yarrows."

"Very interesting," Harry muttered. He was very embarrassed in his breath-capturing outfit. "Why the yarrows? They aren't that spectacular, if you look at them really."

"The name yarrow means a battle or a fight. And this is a contest day, is it not?"

"I never knew you made so much effort for it, Mione," Harry grinned. "But it all looks very good anyway."

"Thanks," Hermione smiled cheerily. "Anything for you, Harry."

"Hermione, don't you start! I won't –and I don't want to– win the award."

They settled down at the breakfast table and started to load some good warm pastries on their plates. Everything went on rather snugly, with happy chirping echoing all over the hall, and with everybody trying to decide whom to vote. That is, until the Slytherin sixth and seventh years decided to make a drastic entrance and interrupt it all. 

The door banged open with a loud, echoing detonation. Everybody's heads turned at the direction of the entrance, and in less time than two seconds, weak squeaks could be heard all around instead of the chirping. 

In came the Slytherin girls, wearing all similar, skin-licking green trousers and tops that were more than revealing despite the abundance of canvas. They were followed by the boys, all wearing tight black trousers and black t-shirts, with the text 'Slytherin is the Sexiest' embroidered with silver on their backs. 

That is, all boys except for one certain Draco Malfoy, who had the most brilliant bronze clothing ever seen. And that clothing certainly showed every piece of his ass and arms and everything else imaginable off.

Harry watched their entrance in awe. And in more awe he watched his secret lover who had to be the most dazzling being in the world. And who was, by the way, very much obviously pouting and scowling at his friends.

"Look at Malfoy, he's got to be the…" Parvati started, but shut her mouth as she received a horrified glare from Hermione and Ginny. She turned to whisper the rest of her sentence to Lavender, who tittered annoyingly as an answer.

Ron didn't need to say anything to express how indignant he was, it all showed from his face. But Dean still couldn't help putting their common thoughts into words.

"Damn fucking damn. Just look at him. We have no chance whatsoever. Sorry to say, Harry."

Harry couldn't have cared less who the winner would be in the first place, but was secretly happy to know that it was Draco. Therefore he wasn't at all disappointed, but even considered of going to vote himself.

"Think I should give my vote for him," he grinned. "If there's one field I can't beat him in, it's this."

"What? You seriously can't give a vote to _him_!" Ron gasped.

"Why ever not?" Harry looked puzzled.

"He is Draco Malfoy, for fuck's and cunt's sake!" Ron hissed. "And he's going to get all the votes anyway. You could at least vote for Dean, so that we might have the chance to get the runner-up position." 

"Nnnnooope, I'm gonna vote Malfoy," Harry said with a drawl that made Ron arch his back. "And for the prettiest girl… I'm going to vote Zabini."

Ron, Seamus, Dean, Neville, Hermione, Parvati, Lavender and Ginny all looked at him with incredulous and flustered expressions.

"Hey, come on, don't you remember what Davies said at Herbology yesterday?" Harry whined. "I will vote for the Slytherins, even just for that. The Gryffindor House is _not _inbreeded. And I'm going to make sure everybody knows that, too."

With these words, Harry got up and walked over to the middle aisle. Immediately, loud squeals filled the room, just like in Malfoy's case.

"Um… I forgot this frigging ponce suit…" Harry smiled lopsidedly at Dean. "But I guess I'll make it alive to the Goblet."

Too stunned to answer, Dean only nodded. Harry grinned and walked the long gangway to the front where the Goblet of Beauty stood on a rack. Several students followed him with their eyes, looking confused. Harry even dared to take a look at the Slytherins, and was returned with wide smiles from all the upper years, especially from Warrington, Etre and Montague. And from Draco he received an intimate stare that showed nothing but lust-crazed emotion. Wanting to laugh out loud, Harry turned his attention back to the goblet that was now standing right before him. Some pieces of parchment and a quill were placed next to it.

"Alright…" Harry muttered and grabbed the plume.

He scribbled neatly the names Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini in two different tickets and held them up to study them so that every curious person in the room could have a look if they wanted. And he dropped them into the goblet.

"Guess I will have to vote, if you do," a voice right behind his ear said, artificially dripping sarcasm.

Harry spun around and faced Draco, who was looking still so stunning that it made Harry furiously blush.

"You didn't have to bother and come to vote your own ass, you're gonna win this anyway," Harry gathered himself and smirked at the Slytherin. "But that's okay, as long as you don't forget to vote the prettiest boy, too."

Draco answered Harry's smirk, his eyes gleaming with suffocated merriment. "I won't. Actually, I was going to give both my votes to you. After all, you've dressed up and everything, one can't help noticing."

Then Draco scribbled the name Harry Potter to both of his parchments and dropped them into the goblet.

"You're wicked!" Harry cried and punched him on the shoulder.

Draco punched him back. "Tell me something you didn't already know."

When Harry returned to his table, he received questioning looks from his friends.

"What was that all about?" asked Hermione. "Why did you thump Malfoy?"

Harry decided it was the easiest to tell the truth. "He voted me for the prettiest girl."

Despite themselves, the Gryffindor sixth years burst out in fists of laughter.

Draco Malfoy's forenoon consisted of Astronomy and Care of Magical Creatures. He was pouting through both of the classes, for the first time feeling awkward of being so damn drop dead gorgeous. Oh, he was used to be the target of admiration, it wasn't just that. 

No, it would've been nothing if it wasn't been the damnable beauty contest, which he detested to great extent, so much in fact that the mere thought of winning made him whimper with disgust. He honestly did not want to go and win that stupid award. It would be embarrassing. 

What would his father say? 

What would the Dark Lord say?

So Draco pouted even more, glaring at Pansy, Blaise and Mary-Ann for their successful choice with Draco's clothes. Draco glared at Crabbe and Goyle who continuously reminded him of being the certain winner. He glared at the group of Ravenclaw girls who tittered and winked their eyes at him continuously, blushing ridiculously afterwards. He glared even at Professor Sinistra, who had the nerve to check her student out in a rather loose manner. 

Luckily, and Draco thanked Merlin for that, Hagrid still seemed to be not interested in his abnormal beauty.

The Care of Magical Creatures was today about magical snakes, to Draco's great amusement and satisfaction. He had always liked snakes –even though he wasn't a parselmouth like Harry. Even his Patronus was a snake, a Runespoor.

"An' who of yeh could tell meh 'bout Runespoors, eh?" Hagrid asked, just like Draco had wished. For if there was one time in his life he would condescend to hold up his hand in the giant's class, it was now. "Malfoy?"

Everybody were rather surprised to see Draco participate, especially Blaise Zabini, who knew her friend too well. 

"Well, a Runespoor is a highly venomous, three-headed snake, who originates from Burkina Faso. Reaches the length of six or seven feet. Colourful, it is orange with black stripes. It is particularly vicious beast, a great favourite as a choice of pet for the Dark Lords throughout the history."

Hagrid seemed satisfied, however furrowed his brow at the mentioning of Dark Lords.

"An' what's the purpose of teh three heads, anyone can tell?" he asked, knocking a glass case which contained at least ten little nestlings of different magical snakes. The Runespoor woke up, all the three heads hissing rather angrily.

"The left head is the planner, deciding where the snake will go. The centre head is the dreamer, the snake can sleep several days in a row, living in a fantasy world. And the right head is the critic, the commentator, the most vicious one, with poison fangs. It's often bitten off, since it hisses irritably twenty-four-seven."

"Thank yeh, Mr. Malfoy," Hagrid was really surprised. He even smiled at the boy.

"Anything, as long as you don't say bronze suits me," Draco muttered under his breath. "I really don't want to hear that from _you_."

But Draco was safe –Hagrid had the tendency to turn all his attention to the snakes whenever he had the chance, and soon his eyes were averted from Draco's delicate form.

"Twenty points for yeh Slytherin!"

Crabbe and Goyle cried out with joy, and hit their friend gently on the back.

"Good job, Draco!" Crabbe cheered.

But Draco wasn't hearing any of this, not really. He had suddenly sunk in his own thoughts. Thoughts about the previous day.

Thoughts about Harry Potter.

Potter really didn't love him, now did he?

Draco leaned against the wall of Hagrid's hut and closed his eyes. He crossed his arms, somehow wanting to keep a hold of himself. He took a long, calming breath, before returning to the memories.

_Do you still want me to learn how to love you? Because, I recently found out I could actually give my love to you…_

What was that supposed to mean? What had happened recently that had made Harry's mind so willing? Plainly nothing! Harry had just said that because he had wanted to shag him in public, having somehow found a weak spot in him. And Draco hated that. Malfoys should not have weak spots! But, no matter how hard Draco tried to deny it, the Gryffindor hero still had affected him more deeply than he had originally planned. 

And now, having been nearly four hours without seeing a glimpse of him, Draco could almost swear that he was miserable with longing. Almost.

Draco growled silently at himself. Potter didn't really love him. Nobody could really love him, not the arrogant prick he always was.

What was Potter playing at? 

Friday began with Divination for Harry Potter. He was sitting in his trademark place nearby the half-open window, trying not to suffocate in the strong perfumes of the room. He didn't know that it was also Draco's favourite spot, but it really didn't matter since they never shared the class together and thus needed not to fight over it.

"How many minutes left?" he asked Ron, trying not to fall asleep.

"Fourty-one minutes and thirty seconds."

"Oh, great…" Harry yawned. "What have you in store for her, this time, Ron?"

"Nothing spectacular, I'm afraid. Just that Professor Snape will most likely poison me to near death during our next Potions class."

"Oh, that's new! We haven't accused anyone before of our deaths!" Harry grinned. "But what will Snape say if Trelawney goes over to him and tells him not to do it?"

"Well, will most likely lead to my divination really coming true, which will give me top marks on this ruddy discipline." 

They both sniggered silently, not noticing the menacing shadow of the Divination Professor spreading over their heads.

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Weasley! May I remind you that you're in class?" she fumed. "You're disturbing my meditation session with Miss Brown here!"

"So awfully sorry," Harry choked, trying not to laugh. Professor Trelawney had a piece of green salad stuck between her front teeth.

"Um, yeah, sorry," Ron muttered, his face red with suffocated guffaws. "We'll be quiet as… as salads."

Harry began to cough mercilessly with laughter, leaning his head to his forearms and trying to escape under the table. "S-sorry… asthma…"

"Yeah, th-that must be it…" Ron said, leaning his forehead against Harry's shoulder, coughing as well. "N-need fresh air…"

"Ten points from each of you for disturbing the teaching!" Trelawney eyed them two very suspiciously. "And Mr. Potter, you might take care of that asthma before it kills you. I rarely see you feeling well in my classes anymore."

"Y-yes madam," Harry wheezed, forcing his eyes to look up at the teacher in an apologizing manner.

And then it happened.

The clear emerald eyes of the Gryffindor, no more covered with the eyeglasses, locked with Professor Trelawney's in a strange manner. The professor looked shocked at first, and then her mien turned distant. Her voice seemed to come from a vacuum of some sort.

"Mr. Potter… There are so many things one can forecast from your eyes. Much of death, I'm afraid, but also some other interesting things. Oh… Mr. Potter, I am telling you this with certainty I have rarely felt before."

Ron looked at Harry incredulously, and Harry continued to stare in Professor Trelawney's eyes.

"You shall be facing very interesting times, Mr. Potter. You shall be serving Lord Voldemort a cup of mint tea at the Malfoy Manor. The porcelain of the cup is fine china."

"E-excuse me?" Harry arched his brows. "Did you just say… what I thought you said, professor?"

"The tea must me mint tea!" the woman went on, a manic gleam in her eyes. "The Dark Lord doesn't like rosemary! And you will be sitting in the Parlour of Malfoy Manor! Not the Dining room!"

Then the stupor was over, and the Professor blinked twice, only to find the whole class staring at her in confusion. 

"Mentally in severe danger, that woman is," Ron muttered under his breath as the professor turned and walked away, massaging her temples.

"Yeah," Harry replied weakly, eyes still wide with what he had heard. 

Because he had heard it once before.

A real divination.

But… mint tea with Voldemort? At Malfoy Manor?

When the Friday's dinner drew near its end, Lavender Brown got up from her seat and walked smoothly like a cat in the front stage. She curtly nodded at the teachers and the Headmaster, and then turned to face her fellow students.

"Alright, everyone!" she tittered. "The voting is about to end. If there's anyone in the hall right now who hasn't yet voted and wishes to do so, I ask them to come here now and do it."

A few Ravenclaw fifth years and some scarce Slytherin and Hufflepuff third years came quickly to give the goblet their opinions of the most gorgeous persons at school. Everybody else just sat still in their seats and waited for Lavender to continue.

"Thank you all," the Gryffindor girl smiled at the last voters and took the goblet in her hand. "Now, the time is up. Now, I am going to go and count the votes. I have chosen one assistant from each of the other houses, so that the game should be fair and you wouldn't suspect me to cheat. Please, come forth, Stephen Cornfoot from Ravenclaw, Elenor Branstone from Hufflepuff and Mary-Ann Greengrass from Slytherin."

Half-hearted applause echoed in the hall when the three 'judges' left their respective tables and went to stand in the front, next to Lavender. 

"The winners shall be announced as soon as possible. We retire now to that smaller chamber with Stephen, Elenor and Mary-Ann to count the votes," she indicated towards the door where the chosen competitors had vanished after hearing that they'd take part in the Triwizard Tournament. "Try to enjoy yourselves meanwhile."

She winked her eye one last irritating time, and sailed off.

"Children!" a joyful Headmaster Dumbledore bellowed. "This little competition has greatly warmed my mind, since these are very dark times we're living. I want to thank Miss Brown and everybody else who has taken part in this playful contest, since it has been cheering up our minds during these days of expectation of the upcoming war. Therefore, we teachers have decided to arrange you all a little surprise."

Harry watched at the teachers, noticing Professor Sprout whispering something to Professor Snape's ear, making him look sour. But Dumbledore continued already.

"After the voting is over, and the winners are announced, you are most welcome to the third-floor hall on the right-hand side, at the end of the formerly forbidden corridor. The East Wing is reopened from this evening on. I believe you shall find it very comfortable there. It is a new common room… for all the houses together."

The loud fracas that followed made Harry, Ron and Hermione cover their ears. 

"Isn't that the corridor that once accidentally led us to that hall and chamber where Fluffy was guarding the entrance to the Philosopher's Stone?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, think it is," Ron answered, looking suspicious. "I didn't like the place, really, the spider webs and all… oh, and the Devil's Snare."

"Dumbledore must have redecorated the hall," Harry pointed out. "I, for one, am curious to see what's done to it. I doubt even Snape would want to decorate a children's common room with a Devil's Snare."

"I bet he would!" Ron glared.

"Hey, the Slytherins look unusually satisfied," Hermione remarked.

Harry looked at the sixth and seventh year Slytherins, who had become his sort-of friends during the passing days. They all looked excited, laughing merrily together.

"Bloody hell, there's going to be a party tonight," Harry read from Draco's lips. "Warrington, Bole, do you still have some leftovers from Halloween?"

"Would you care to share if there were?" Harry silently muttered. "I namely won't be drinking butterbeer anytime soon. It's like drinking piss and not getting anything in return from it except the bitter taste."

"What did you say, Harry?" Ron looked confused. "Talking to yourself? Hearing voices again?"

"No, Ron… Just remembered I'll have to… take care of something before the evening starts."

Right that moment, Draco flashed his beautiful smile at Harry, and Harry went flustered.

"You _really_ are behaving oddly, nowadays, mate," Ron poked Harry in the ribs. "Really are."

Twenty minutes, the Great Hall was suffering from an excited fuss. Twenty minutes, and finally after that time, the door of the smaller chamber was pushed open.

"Alright, my ladies and gentlemen," Stephen staggered in front of the Head table. "Here are the results for the most beautiful and attractive, prettiest and sexiest, most enchanting and fairest… Girls of Hogwarts!"

Thunderous applause filled the air, even though Draco Malfoy saw fit not to participate, in case his hands would get all red from clapping.

"Without further delay… I will give you the third, the second and the winner."

Some whistles and some whoops.

"Third position… ta-da-daa… Our delicate and sophisticated, although a bit shy, girl is… Virginia Weasley from Gryffindor!"

The whole Gryffindor table erupted. Harry clapped his hands and grinned with the rest of his friends, when the unmistakably pale Ginny was pushed into a standing position and was guided with hands and arms towards the teachers' table. She hadn't obviously been waiting such an honour, or in Hermione's view, silly attention. Being all stiff and her breath not flowing, she managed her way next to Stephen, Mary-Ann, Elenor and Lavender. Mary-Ann put a lei of white lilies around her neck and she received a little crystal rose from Stephen.

"Um… Thanks… I guess…" she stammered, wanting the earth to swallow her. 

For her luck, Stephen was soon going forwards, and was now announcing the next beautiful girl of the school.

"The second position… She is the only one who didn't do anything to her appearance to please the eye, yet she was one of the most voted girls at school… Our sweet, intelligent and vivacious beauty is… Hermione Granger from Gryffindor!"

If someone had thought it impossible for the Gryffindor table to make even more noise than in Ginny's case, now it was proven that it could. Hermione was in total dread, her mouth opening and closing, and she had to cover her ears with her palms to make her hearing stay in its healthy level. 

"I don't believe this," she moaned. "I don't want that prize… I didn't do anything to deserve it. There must be some mistake! It's Lavender who has to get it, not me."

"Don't be silly, darling," Ron yelled, "You are just naturally adorable! And I bet Lavender's going to win the whole contest. Gryffindor really rules!"

Harry jostled her with his elbow. "Poor Mione, having to bear this awful honour of being both intelligent _and sexy."_

Hermione looked dismayed. "This can't be happening. Who on earth would vote me?"

"Well, every Gryffindor, of course, and many of the Hufflepuffs!" Ron laughed. "Go on now, get your prize!"

Still slightly sulking, Hermione stood up and went to gather her award. She quickly glanced at the Slytherin table, where all the faces looked sultry and seething. She almost read from Tracey Davies' lips that 'Gryffindor really favoured only its own students' and that 'it was really ridiculous but predictable'.

"And the winner of the evening!" Stephen Cornfoot continued, rolling slowly open a parchment. 

The entire audience fell silent immediately. There was a crackling excitement all around the spacious hall, and Stephen deliberately didn't blurt the winner out quickly.

"A real surprise to us judges, and probably also to herself… This was a great subject of wondering. There is no denying that she wouldn't be seductive, self-secure and immensely delicious… ahem…" Stephen blushed. Obviously he had voted this girl himself. "…But the number of voices she received surpassed every imaginable prediction. Thus, with supremacy unheard of before… I give you our winner… Blaise Zabini from Slytherin!"

The Slytherin table was in awe. Blaise looked blankly forwards, batting her thick black lashes in total confusion. 

"What? Me?" she sighed.

This time, even Draco Malfoy condescended to make a noisy applause, along with all the other Slytherins. She was soon the target of all the attention, and the floating candles somehow gathered a luminous cluster above her head.

"You're my girl, Blaise," Warrington hugged her warmly, "Go and get your award!"

"B-but… I'm a Slytherin! I… I can't win!" she protested, not believing what she had just heard.

Draco smirked and lifted her chin with a finger. "I think you still did win, and with loads of votes from other houses as well, babe. Imagine, for what I know, also Potter voted for you!"

Blaise looked at the raven-haired boy with great mystification across the room. "H-he did?"

"Yes," Draco beamed, "I saw his votes. And besides, I believe the whole majority of Ravenclaw boys voted for you, as well."

Ravenclaw table was whooping and whistling and encouraging Blaise to step in front, beside Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger. Blaise cast them a sweet, thank-you smile, however noticing how awkward Cho Chang looked in her seat. Slowly –and very elegantly– she then made her way to the judges. She received a long and delicate crystal rose from Stephen, and Mary-Ann came to hug her.

"Congratulations, sugar," she giggled and covered her with lilies. "Slytherin _is the sexiest."_

"I can't believe this, Mary-Ann," she smiled, genuinely happy now.

"Well I can," the other Slytherin girl grinned. "You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen!"

"You're being partial, Marie," Blaise grinned back.

They hugged once more. Then it was time for Stephen and Elenor to squeeze her in their embrace. But when it came to Lavender, Hermione and Ginny, all of them Gryffindors, Blaise felt a little uncomfortable. Lavender made no gesture to come close to her, whereas Hermione forced herself into a hug. Ginny seemed to be too afraid of her to even move an inch from her spot, but the situation was solved as she allowed Blaise to do the hugging, just returning it herself.

In the background, the Slyterin table was almost dancing with glee, proposing toasts with enormous butterbeer pints that were somehow magically spiked with something stronger, like dragon blood. They were now sure that they would win both the first awards, for there was no space for doubt in their minds that Draco the Sex God of Slytherin Malfoy would lose anything to anyone when it came to outer appearances.

"Alright, alright…" Lavender coughed, looking more than disappointed with not getting an award herself. Yet she managed to glide in the spotlights, looking relatively haughty still. "It is the time to declare the three most gorgeous boys of this school."

Ginny, Hermione and Blaise stayed in the front, now standing all next to each other and curiously following the other half of the contest from behind the judges' backs.

"There's no doubt of the winner, now is there," Hermione whispered to Ginny, glaring. Blaise saw this and couldn't suppress a wicked smirk.

Lavender negotiated something silently with Elenor and Mary-Ann before turning to Stephen. They all talked in hushed voices, comparing their notes, and finally nodding in unison. 

"Ahem…" Lavender then cleared her throat. "The third position."

Everybody waited in silent tension.

"Bolts continue to come from the blue, I guess," Lavender had a wicked smile on her face. "This person… he has the hue of mystery and dark passion in him. He has been the secret, however imprudent, daydream of many elder girl student of this school. According to the Goblet, he received most of his voices surprisingly from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Hereby I give you… our sexy and exciting… Professor Severus Snape!"

The general view in the hall was highly amusing. All the seventh-year girls from Hufflepuff, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw burst into wild screaming, whereas the rest of the students remained thunderstruck.

Only not nearly as thunderstruck as Professor Snape himself.

He looked like he'd just seen Voldemort dancing lambada with Hagrid, and Hagrid simultaneously coaxing the professor to take off his robes and join them.

Harry burst out laughing, and surprisingly, none other than Draco Malfoy followed suit. They glanced at each other and howled even more with laughter. And, as expected after the general confusion, everybody else began to giggle too, clapping their hands and beckoning Snape to come in the front stage. Not long after, the hall echoed with wild whistles, and Snape was covered with flying kisses.

The professor looked aghast.

"Go on, don't spoil the children's fun," Dumbledore beamed. "Go and get your award, Severus."

Severus did not move an inch.

"Either you go freely, or do I have to levitate you there?" Dumbledore asked, masking his minor threat under a smile.

Snape looked at him with horror. Being levitated would be even more embarrassing than going there voluntarily. Especially as levitation had the tendency to billow his robes toomuch. And he was wearing his bunny boxers today –and not anything but them.

"Alright," he grunted, and acidly heaved himself up from his chair, taking support from the teachers' table, knuckles white. "But someone's going to pay for this, rest assured!"

As Snape made it to the front stage, he really needed to put all his patience into work. The whistles were almost making him deaf.

"Zabini, Greengrass, I demand you, who did this to me?" he snarled at his Slytherin girls.

"Well, _you, obviously, did it to yourself, being such a hottie," Blaise grinned. She never was too prudent with the head of her house. "Look, Professor, at those Hufflepuff lasses… They're drooling all over each other, only looking at you!"_

Snape looked merely terrified.

"I want to get out of here," he winced, when Stephen came and threw a garland of lilies over his head.

"You're not going anywhere, Professor," Mary-Ann took his arm in a hook of her own. "You look just wonderful with those flowers, so sweet," she simpered. 

Snape glared. "As long as that Creevey brat doesn't succeed in taking a pict…"

Flash!

"Never mind, Greengrass, never you mind…" Snape sighed, and began to rub his temples. "Let's go on with the show, shall we…?"

"The second position!" Lavender declared, sounding surprisingly both content and bitter. "This is no surprise, for who would not consider him sexy and worth dying for… even though he isn't that free of tarnish as he would wish the world to see him… He is the pride and joy of the Gryffindor house… Harry Potter."

The Gryffindors rampaged again, slamming their fists in rhythm against the table surface, shouting loudly compliments to Harry, eventually settling in repeating his name in a way they always did at the Quidditch matches.

"For crying out loud, stop that!" Harry looked miserable. "Just… stop it, will you?"

"Don't be so modest, mate! You did it! You are so the best!" Ron rioted.

"Ron, I am not the winner, here," Harry growled. "And I really don't feel like going up there, standing next to Snape…"

"Harry Potter, if you would please step front," Stephen Cornfoot demanded. "We cannot continue before you have come to collect your award, lion!"

"Bloody hell… I'm not bloody going to go there to be called a lion or anything of the sort," Harry grunted. 

Seamus and Neville scowled at him and, out of the blue, grabbed his arms and heaved him up from the chair.

"You. Go. There. NOW!" Neville shouted.

"You. Have. No. Life." Harry muttered, but obeyed anyway, grimacing at Draco and the other Slytherins. Draco seemed to understand his feelings exactly.

"I guess I don't need to say out loud who the winner is," Lavender stupidly giggled, after Harry had received his prize and was standing next to the sulking Professor Snape.

Lavender's giggles were accompanied with louder ones all across the Great Hall. Harry saw Ron grimace at Seamus at the Gryffindor table, and couldn't help snorting with glee. Oh, yes, who else would the winner be but Draco Malfoy? There was nobody more sinfully angelic in the whole wizarding world. 

However, as Harry looked at his secret lover in the far end of the Slytherin table, he saw that Draco showed no interest whatsoever in the situation. He acted as if he hadn't even heard to whom Lavender was alluding to, as if he wasn't even taking really part in the whole stupid contest, and thus was above it, not needing to hear the results.

Suddenly, Professor Snape glared at Harry. "Potter, this must be your doing," he hissed. "Only you and your freaky Gryffindor friends could be clever –and stupid– enough to do this kind of a prank to me."

Harry looked at Snape with bright and innocent green eyes. "I am sure it has more to do with your hard-to-get –attitude than the fact that I once told Angelina and Alicia that you usually wear nothing under your robes." 

Snape went completely red, which wasn't typical of him at all. "How would you know that, Potter?" he spat.

"Oh, I have my sources of information…" Harry simpered. He had found this out once when wandering around with his Invisibility cloak, and found Snape stumbling with his robes.

Snape looked just like he'd ready to kill someone –more precisely Potter.

"Oh… And do you still have those sweet bunny boxers?" Harry couldn't resist whispering.

For Harry's luck, the student body then erupted with deafening clamour as the name of Draco Malfoy was announced. Snape recoiled and regained his composure, however his eyes still glinting with hatred. He would get Potter later.

Draco walked lazily in the front, ignoring all the compliments and whistles. Of course he had to win the stupid blasted bloody contest, how could he not? Being who he was, and devilishly handsome at that, how could there have been doubt in his mind? Now, wait, there _hadn't_ been doubt in his mind. But he disliked the situation all the same.

"Potter, Professor Snape," he drawled as he positioned himself between the two. "I think we need some serious drinking tonight."

"Count me in," Harry grinned.

Snape looked a bit flustered about the rarely seen civilized terms between the two boys, but shrugged it away, remembering what they were talking about.

"Yes, we need something stronger than butterbeer tonight… something stronger than even Warrington's. I'm going to…" Snape shuddered, "…visit Hagrid tonight."

Draco and Harry both laughed. Soon, they were accompanied with Hermione, Blaise and Ginny, and all the six stood in a row for a couple of minutes, so that Colin Creevey was able to take some photos for the school magazine.

"Draco," Snape muttered under his breath. "The Red Chamber, tonight."

"Yes, sir," Draco smirked. "The Red Chamber."

…TBC…

A/N: Sorry, this chapter wasn't up to my usual standards… But I promise I'll try my best with the next one… although it's going to be a bit… furious… *ahem*


	20. Cracked Infidelity

A/N: Obviously, I am carrying out this storyline despite what has happened in the OOTP. Possibly I will edit the story later when it's finished, to make it more fitting in the current state of affairs in the HP world.

A/N II: Thanks for every one who's reviewed and thought this story's worth reading. It means a lot to me, to receive even one single word of feedback, just to know what I'm writing this for.

A/N III: The party house milieu of this chapter is based on the images from the movie Philosopher's Stone.

**20. Cracked Infidelity**

"Alright… We better get finally going, don't you think, Harry?"

Ron was standing in the middle of the Gryffindor common room, his hands on Hermione's hips. Obviously the two of them were going to have a good snog later in the evening, which slightly made Harry feel appalled. It was not that he wasn't happy for them, but more likely because he knew how badly they both would take the news of him being in love with Draco Malfoy, when the truth inevitably once broke out. He wanted acceptance, he wanted them to think it was normal and okay, and he just couldn't imagine them reacting in the wished way.

Harry would never be standing in the middle of the common room, his hands on Draco's hips, looking both so carefree and artificially cocksure that Ron looked right now.

"Yeah… I just… Wouldn't you go beforehand? I have something to do."

Hermione glared at him suspiciously.

"It won't be taking a long time, I promise," Harry hastily continued. "It's just that… I need to go to, em, meet someone."

Ron's eyes flickered with amusement. "Oh, you're going to see your… boyfriend."

Hermione gasped at this statement. "What?" 

"Harry's got a boyfriend," Ron grinned, very much amused of the fact that he was the one to tell the news to Hermione.

Harry shifted slightly in his chair, looking both sulking and amused. "Thanks, Ron, I wasn't sure how to tell her that myself, since I'm so well-known of keeping secrets from my best friends," he mocked.

"Come on, now, Harry, I know you were going to tell her tonight," Ron massaged Hermione's shoulders, "But I wanted my part of the fun. I wanted to see her expression!"

"Excuse me! I'm still in the room, Mr. Ronald Weasley!" Hermione huffed. "And Harry, what's this talk about having a… a _boy_friend?"

"I'm gay, Mione," Harry said airily, investigating the cuticles of his left hand fingers.

"You… you're… you're gay," she stated.

"I am," Harry sighed, a supercilious smile lingering over his lips.

"Since when?" Hermione's lower lip was slightly trembling. "And… and who is he?"

"Yeah, who is he?" Ron asked twice as eagerly. "Are we going to be introduced tonight?"

Harry snickered. "Perhaps… or perhaps not. Depends on him, I think… the way he behaves himself."

Hermione seemed to have real difficulties in absorbing this information, and accepting it as well.

"But I always thought you… you wanted a family, a wife, plenty of kids… And Lavender… Oh, and Ginny… I always thought you would…"

"I'm sick and tired of thinking what other people think I ought to do with my life," Harry gently smiled. "I realised that a couple of days ago, when I was making out with him in here."

Ron and Hermione didn't catch the full meaning of the sentence immediately, but when they did, they both went wide-eyed and their mouths hung open.

"In _here?" they both shouted, simultaneously._

"Well, yes, nothing much to take a note of," Harry drawled. "It wasn't like we disturbed anybody."

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked. "This is very… shocking news!"

Ron pulled her into an embrace. "Cool it down, dah-ling, he's just _trying_ to shock you, so that he would have an easy escape of the situation."

Harry smirked, which didn't quite suit him at all. "Tha's right, Ickle Ronnekins… I'm trying to get you two shocked and going, so that I could have my own plans for the night accomplished."

"Well, Harry Potty-poo, not workin' eh? Because we're dragging you right along with us now, and no protesting. We are already late, and I'm sure that your secret lover's already in the party, too," Ron smirked back. "You can check from the Marauders', if you like to make sure."

Harry scowled, however smiling heartily. "Alright, Wiizlyh-buns, I'm coming. As long as you don't expect me to watch you two snogging the entire evening."

"Can't promise you that," Ron flashed a smile.

Hermione didn't say anything. Her expression was expressionless. She was in obvious mental disarray.

Draco Malfoy was sitting with Warrington, Bole, Montague and Etre in the Slytherin common room, taking serious drafts from one of the green glass bottles that had emerged from Warrington's trunk. They were all still dressed up the way they were at breakfast, Draco being in his bronze clothing and the rest of them wearing the black, 'Slytherin Is THE Sexiest' T-shirts and black trousers. 

However, Draco had had the time to take a bath in between, as well as do all his homework. He was a skilful student, who managed to get everything over and done with in the shortest of time if he wanted. And now he had all the time in the world to absorb himself into drinking. 

"So, who were the winners?" he asked Montague, who was briskly pouring more dragon blood into his respective bottle. "I mean, who got those stupid Ilfracombe tickets?"

"Heard 'em were Fnic-finch-Feltch-fletcletlethcley and Dennis Creeeevey," mumbled Bole, being already intoxicated beyond reasonable talking skills.

Draco raised him a brow. "Finch-Fletchley and Creevey? How atrocious is that! I mean, nothing wrong with Finchie, except that he's a sordid mudblood, but DENNIS CREEVEY? Now who the hell gave him the right to vote in the first place?" fumed Draco. "Disgusting!"

"You're just fucked because you couldn't have that holiday with Harry, Draco," giggled Etre. "Admit it!"

"I could have a holiday with him, whenever I wanted!" Draco protested, taking a sip from his bottle. "It's not like either of us is short of money, or power, or anything for that matter."

"So…" interrupted Warrington. "Are you two coming out, tonight?"

Draco snorted. "I bet Potter's not ready to tell his sidekicks just yet, fearing that Weasley would beat us both up and badly, and that Granger girl would get a heart-attack."

"So you will leave it to Potter to decide when you come out and open?" Etre asked. "Rather unselfish of you. Are you softening to his charms, Dracey? Are you in _luuuuve?"_

Everyone laughed at Draco's slightly flushed cheekbones. Luckily, he could later on explain it with how much he had been drinking. 

"I'm not the one in love here, and I am not planning to be, either," he snarled. "It's Potter who's in love with me, and I just can't see anything wrong with that arrangement. He's soft wax in my hands, and when I decide to end our thing… He'll be so lost, I guarantee. It will be fun."

"You don't believe that even yourself, Draco," Montague said severely. "You think Harry's in love, do you? Well then you should take some serious time thinking what that really means. Not everybody here could win that fellow's heart, you know! You shouldn't crush it. You're happy with him, Draco, we all know you are. You look much healthier nowadays. You really shouldn't think of breaking up with him. You're gonna break up yourself, that way."

Draco didn't reply. He knew Montague was right. But his father… The Dark Lord… Damn, did they have expectations of him! What should he do? Who should he betray? Did he have to betray anyone? Except himself? Fuck.

"So… The party's starting any minute…" he drawled, wanting to change the subject.

"Yeah, and Snape wants us in the Red Chamber in time," remembered Warrington. "Did he _really visit that old goof of a giant tonight, Draco?"_

"He said he would," Draco grunted. "So, let's get going, unless any of you wants to stay without firestorm whiskey of Hagrid, the secret Hard Liqueur maker of Hogwarts." 

Harry, Ron and Hermione left for the East Wing together. They remembered it well from their adventure back in their first year at the school, when they were accidentally led at the wing because of a moving staircase. Feeling a bit awkward, the trio now voluntarily let the staircase turn to the West Wing's direction.

"Hope Hagrid's collected Fluffy away," Ron twisted his mouth. "Wouldn't be nice to have that three-headed monster as our common room pet."

"Yeah," Harry grinned. "Although I can't help wondering… What has become of that small room where Fluffy was guarding the trapdoor? Toilets for our new gathering area? A snogging cupboard?"

"Might as well ask what has become of those rooms where the trapdoor leads," Hermione wondered. She was trying to make a normal conversation, after a long, silent walk of fifteen minutes from the Gryffindor Tower to the third floor aisle. "You know… For example, what's come of the room where you encountered You-Know-Who for the first time, Harry? Do you expect that Dumbledore would have done something to that area, too?"

"Well, maybe," Harry smiled at Hermione. He was happy that she was at least trying to act normally in his company.

"I don't care, as long as I don't have to meet the Devil's Snare anew," Ron muttered.

They didn't have the time to ponder the issue further, because they were now at the very entrance to the East Wing, where they could find out the answers to their questions by just walking in and looking around. There was a huge, gilded plate attached to the massive old door, which said 'For All the Lions, Serpents, Badgers and Eagles in common'. The door, once been screaming with un-oiled hinges, now swung swiftly open. 

A marvellous sight greeted the Gryffindor trio as they entered the newly decorated East Wing. 

The formerly eerie, huge hall was now without any of the glory of the ancient spider webs –it was all clean and polished and as much as inviting. The scary statues were still there, however, but they seemed to melt into the environment as some grotesque art that was meant to sophisticatedly startle the by-passing people. And what was the most amazing change –everything was cream white.

"I can't believe this is the same hall," Hermione whispered. "Look at this! Here are at least fifty ivory tables and twice as many sofas, divans and armchairs… all of them so pure white."

"White is a rather neutral colour," Harry stated, also astounded. "It isn't a House colour."

"Wonder if there's a spell keeping them all clean?" Hermione found her practical side finally. "White is quite delicate to get dirty."

Harry had a mental image of Draco at the mention of 'white' and 'get dirty', and he grinned inwardly.

"Oh, look, there's a fountain! With a moving marble Pegasus!" Hermione's eyes gleamed. "How _beautiful! And oh, there are real, non-magical fires in the grates! Upon my honour, I've never seen anything like this! So… cosy, yet so festive… and so…"_

"Where is everybody?" Ron wondered out loud, ignoring Hermione's outburst of admiration. "There are only some stupid first and second years, and some third and fourth years. Where is everyone else?"

The answer was given to them when they saw Justin Finch-Fletchley and Wayne Hopkins emerging from a very familiar-looking door at their right.

"Oh, goody, someone's made use of Fluffy's bedroom after all," Ron grinned. "Wonder what's in there!"

"Oh, probably just the toilets," Harry smiled lopsidedly and pulled his friends towards the little chamber. "Let's find out, shall we?"

When peering inside 'Fluffy's bedroom', they saw that nothing had changed. The beautiful enchanted harp still stood in the corner, now playing a merry tune for the students, more precisely some Irish drinking song that Harry remembered Seamus singing in the shower once. The lightning was dim because there were no candles, only the night sky intruding into the room from the three gothic windows. The trapdoor was invitingly open. Another huge, gilded plate was set before their eyes.

"Not for the witches or wizards under the age of fifteen", Hermione read, crumpling her nose slightly. "Wonder what that is all about?"

"Obviously it's about not letting in underage kids," Ron stated.

"Ron, we are _all_ underage kids," Hermione corrected him. 

Ron gently jostled her arm. "But you still got my meaning, didn't you, smartass?"

Hermione harrumphed.

"Oookay, who wants to go in first?" Harry asked. 

"I'm definitely interested, but knowing that the Devil's Snare used to be there…" Ron looked uncomfortable.

"I can go," Harry said and sauntered at the trapdoor. "I'll tell you if the Devil's Snare's still there or not."

"Okay," Hermione agreed. She wasn't that eager to spoil her party dress in the arms of a greedy plant. "Just be careful."

Harry gave her a look that indicated that he was always careful. And even if he was not, he was still the four-time winner of Voldemort, so what could a pathetic little strangler plant possibly do to him? Harry jumped down from the trap and vanished.

"Ouch!"

"Fucking hell!"

"Harry!" Hermione and Ron cried simultaneously, grabbing each other in slight alarm.

"I'm… er… okay," was the muffled reply.

Harry had landed on Draco Malfoy, who was angry as a pissed dragon when having his bronze shirt crumpled. But when the Slytherin found out who his attacker was, he had hastily captured Harry's lips into a tight lock, making the Gryffindor plead for oxygen after only ten seconds of the intense kiss. 

Then he pulled apart and glanced around, luckily finding that there had been nobody to see. 

"Potter, why the devil didn't you use the ladder?" Draco inquired.

"Um… huh?" Harry looked confused, but turned his gaze into the direction of a fine, white wooden ladder behind him. Then he grinned. "Must have been the old habit."

"Or you just like to make tragic entries, is all," Draco smirked.

"Learned from the best, Malfoy," Harry smirked back.

Harry now found out that they were sprawled on a thick, soft black mattress that reached the room from wall to wall. It was velvety and very sinking.

"Harry! Harry, are you alright?" Ron shouted, and Harry saw his red head emerging in the trapdoor hole, peering downwards at him and Draco.

"Yes, if not counted the fact that my middle body's strangled by Malfoy's fucking legs," Harry tried to sound irritated.

"Thanks a lot, Pot-head, but my feet are not the part of my body that are doing the fucking, in case you haven't noticed," Draco grinned. "Get the fuck off me, Potter!"

"We're coming down to help you, mate," Ron declared.

"Yes, only use the ladd…"

THUMP!

"Oh, shit, Ron!" Harry groaned, as his best friend landed on both him and Malfoy.

"Get your slimy hands off my waist, Weasley," Draco shrieked, "I might get envenomed!" 

"Shut up, Malfoy, and leave Harry alone," Ron glared at the Slytherin, his hair flaming in the dim candlelight. 

He honestly looked a bit scary to Draco, although he didn't admit that.

"I don't take orders from a Weasley," Draco snarled. "And _do take your freaky hands off my waist already!"_

Ron looked a bit taken aback, and Harry snorted. Both Draco and Ron looked at him curiously.

"What's the fun in this situation, Harry?" Ron made a face, retreating as far away from Malfoy as possible.

"Would you two just stop bickering for one night, for Merlin's sake," he giggled. "Might do you both good."

Ron looked dumbfounded, and Draco searched something of significance from Harry's eyes. However, Harry managed to make an expression that told Draco not to reveal anything, and to Ron that he had just been silly.

"Oh, alright, I know that nobody's able to restrain from a fight with you, Malfoy, you just love to create and carry them out, don't you," Harry sighed. "But guess what? I'm not going to fight with you tonight. I don't want to waste my time to that. So you can either bugger off now, or agree with a truce with me and Ron."

"Hey, I didn't say anything about wanting to make a truce with that ferret face!" Ron pouted.

"And I have no inclination to make a truce with you, Gingerhead," Draco hissed. "But with Potter…" Draco turned to smile slyly at Harry. "I might give it a try. Just for the fun of it."

By this time, Hermione had managed to climb down the ladder with her long-hemmed evening dress.

"What's up down here?" she asked, nervously eyeing Draco, Harry and Ron.

"A truce," Harry replied, feeling a little tingle in his belly. He would be able to act almost openly with Draco all the evening, under the cover of being friends!

"A truce indeed," smirked Draco, heaving himself up from the mattress-covered floor. He didn't like to look up at a Mudblood. "Potter and I have just agreed not to fight tonight."

"We'll see about that," Ron muttered silently. 

"What was that, Weasley?" Draco's eyes cast ice daggers.

"Oh, come _on, let's go and see what the party house looks like!" Harry groaned, and escorted his friends up the stairs that led out of the small circular chamber._

Draco smirked and followed.

As they were nearing the hall where the keys had once been flying, they met other students as well. Ron and Hermione couldn't suppress their awe as they found the roofless, very high hall echoing with beautiful, calming music, the weird construction of arches glimmering with blue, phosphoric lightning. The moon cast its beams straight down from the unattainable hole of a ceiling, making the people beneath look like bathed in milk. Harry glanced at Malfoy, seeing how he fitted perfectly in the picture with his pale locks, and for once not even knowing it himself.

"This is very tranquillising," Hermione whispered. "Look, all those beautiful shining pillows and mattresses… and floating, legless tables…"

"And the music… bet it is Mozart," Harry smiled. "After all, he was a half-blood, just like me. Not that any of the Muggles knew, though…"

They caught a glimpse of something shining, and realised that the keys were still there, flying about the arches like golden mosquitos.

"I think I already like the idea of this shared common room," Ron said.

Draco found Crabbe and Goyle and sauntered off. 

"Good, we got rid of him at last," Hermione huffed. 

"Hey, let's go further! I wanna see what's in the next room," Ron said.

"You call these halls 'rooms'?" Hermione asked, and shook her head.

Harry, Ron and Hermione all gasped at the same time when entering the next chamber. The huge Wizard Chess board, formerly known as battlefield, was now cleaned and polished, and was being used as a huge dance floor. The blue and white marble squares were reflecting the dancers' images, and beautiful, real fires were set to illuminate it from all the four sides. The counters, all soldiers and horses and towers, either broken or unbroken, were covered with soft pillows and mattresses, and they now made the most imaginable furniture around the huge hall. 

"Bloody fucking hell," Ron winced. "Someone's exceeded themselves!"

"Glad you like it, Mr. Weasley, because I saw great trouble for it," an acidic snarl was heard from behind the trio's backs.

"P-professor Snape!" Ron yelped.

"That's correct," the black-robed head of Slytherin sneered.

"_You have decorated this place?" Ron was still shaken with sudden fright and didn't remember to be quite that polite._

"Obviously the Headmaster wanted somebody with taste to do it," Snape grunted. "Minerva has the annoying habit of making everything so prudent, not to mention Pomona Sprout… The poor woman has barely had a snog in her life, thus understanding nothing of the importance of the private chambers."

Ron and Hermione looked shocked about Snape's last comment.

"Why are you telling us this?" Harry asked, suspicious. It wasn't like Snape to come and chitchat with the Gryffindor students, least of all Harry Potter and his friends. Or was he drunk already?

"Oh, I just came to tell you that here can be found some very interesting surprises, Potter," Snape almost smiled.

"Well. We'll have an interesting evening ahead of us, then," Harry replied.

Snape merely sneered, then bowed down and whispered into Harry's ear, "The Red Chamber, Potter. And _do _try to make it alone, for once in your life."

And he sailed off, his black cloak billowing again almost unnaturally.

"How does he do that?" wondered Harry.

"Blower under the robes?" suggested Hermione.

Ron looked confused, understanding nothing about the Muggle devices. "What's a blower?"

Harry laughed. "I'll explain it to you later."

"So, what did he say to you?" Hermione asked, looking in Harry's green eyes that looked a little mysterious.

"He said… we should enjoy ourselves," Harry decided.

Ron gave him a disbelieving stare, and Hermione tugged her lower lip out, clearly dissatisfied.

"He did, too!" Harry whined. Because he was quite sure he was not lying. Just interpreting Snape's words a bit. 

Namely, Harry was certain he would have a very enjoyable evening ahead. Heaven forbid, Severus Snape willingly offering Hagrid's booze to him! Harry silently couldn't help wondering if it was Draco's request, or Snape's own decision for some curious reason.

"Um, there's still one room left to study," Harry reminded his friends. "It's the place where I… you know, where the Mirror of Erised was."

"Yes! You three just go and see that place!" shouted Seamus from behind his back, and jumped on Harry and Ron's necks. "It's now a huge bar! The house-elves will bring you _anything_ you want!"

"Anything?" Harry was suspicious.

"Well, um, nothing stronger than cider or wine, but still… Hey, Dean! Wait for me!"

Hermione, Harry and Ron watched their friends rally about the dance floor, chasing each other and winking their eyes at several girls, including very gleeful Lavender Brown.

"Okay… I'm heading for the bar," Ron smiled and grabbed Hermione's arm. "And you're definitely coming with me!"

"Ron…"

"Don't even try to protest, we had loads of fun the last time you were drunk…!"

"Ron!" Hermione smacked him in the head playfully, but followed all the same. Perhaps they'd manage another good snogging session after all.

Harry found his chance to sneak away.

Draco Malfoy was sitting in a sinking, deep red sofa, smoking a cinnamon cigarette that Professor Snape had offered him. They were in what Snape had called 'The Red Chamber', the walls and furniture and floor all being blood red in colour. There were all the other sixth and seventh year Slytherins as well, getting very much intoxicated and talking dirty. Montague was just opening the door to let Finch-Fletchley and Hopkins back in.

"So, Professor…" Draco drawled, "How did it go with Hagrid?"

Snape looked sour. "He wasn't too happy about my request, but when I told him I promised Potter…"

"You promised Potter?"

Snape coughed. "Well, he heard us in the Great Hall earlier today and… well… I thought Hagrid might agree if… And now…"

"You've invited Potter here?" Draco asked, his voice casual and slightly indignant, but in truth he would've liked to hug his head of house.

"I had to," grunted Severus, "Otherwise Hagrid would never trust me again. I need Potter to tell him that he's been here… enjoying these refreshments with us."

"And did you include Weasel and Granger into that invitation, too, professor?" asked Warrington, scowling. "I wouldn't want…"

"Don't be foolish, Carlos, of course I didn't!" the professor snarled.

It could've been a real place for someone to wonder how the death-scary Professor Snape was talking to his students like being equal with them, but then again nobody knew that Severus really enjoyed their company. Especially Malfoy, although being a son of a Death Eater, was a very witty talking companion, and Severus secretly hoped he would also get some information about Voldemort from the boy. Not to mention that he tried to find a way to persuade young Draco to the Light side, since he was so clever a student.

"I think there was a knock on the door," giggled Blaise, half sprawled in Draco's lap. "Do you think it's Harry?"

"Might be," Severus drawled. "Montague, could you perhaps…?"

"Sure, I'm the doorman here," Rodriquez grinned, and rose up to open the door, leaving the pouting Justin Etre behind on the couch.

Draco raised a snifter on his lips and took a draft. Blaise nestled her head against his shoulder, playing with his buttons and giggling some nonsense.

"Zabini, you're too drunk," Draco smiled and smoothed her hair. "Come on, let's make room for Potter, shall we?"

Harry found the Red Chamber rather easily. It was halfway down the stairs to the bar, where another staircase led to his left, disappearing in shadows. There was nothing interesting to see in that particular gangway, and it was therefore totally deserted. There were only several locked doors, and one of them was painted burgundy red.

"This must be it," Harry mused. 

He hesitated, however, when he didn't hear any voices coming from the other side of the door.

"Must be having a Silencing Charm on it," he decided, and knocked.

Not long after, Rodriquez Montague emerged in front of him.

"Hey, Potter!" he greeted, "Joining our party again?"

"Um… I suppose so?" Harry grinned.

"Well don't stand there, come in!"

Montague pulled Harry from the collar, and he entered a room that was completely red, down to the very last candlestick that was floating in the air. He saw Draco immediately, half lying on a sofa like a lazy cat, Blaise Zabini by his side.

"Mr. Potter, I see you've managed to get rid of your… friends."

Harry jumped slightly when hearing Professor Snape's voice.

"Um, yes… They're… busy elsewhere."

Snape gave him what could be described a lopsided, wry grin.

"Harry!" Blaise laughed, "Come and sit with us!"

Draco quenched his cigarette and conjured up an empty snifter. Snape filled it up with Hagrid's booze.

"Here," Draco gave the drink to Harry as he approached. "Your giant friend sends his greetings."

Harry narrowed his eyes and smiled. "Must be really good stuff, taken that half of you Slytherins are already under the tables."

"Mr. Potter, do take a seat," instructed Professor Snape.

"Gladly," Harry smirked and dropped himself on the other side of Draco. Instantly, he felt an arm slither around his waist.

Snape looked at them with a befuddled expression on his face.

"So… What do you think?" asked Draco, gesturing at Harry's drink.

Harry took a sip and grimaced. "Warrington's got a better taste, I must say."

Snape continued staring at them perplexed. "I didn't know you two were… friends."

Only now Harry realised the situation wholly, and moved to get away from Draco. Draco, however, wouldn't let him go.

"You see, Professor… We have a truce."

"Ah," Snape raised his chin, eyeing them sceptically. "A truce."

Harry felt his cheeks flush, and took another sip from his glass. "Yes, a truce," he muttered.

Blaise giggled mercilessly and Draco nudged her with his elbow.

The time seemed to flow rather comfortably forwards in the Red Chamber. Harry found enjoying himself immensely, and watching Professor Snape drink himself totally shitfaced was truly an amusing experience. After two hours, the Professor even had the nerve to praise Harry of his fighting skills against the Dark Lord, which obviously made many of the Slytherins look at him angrily. However, nobody took anything too seriously that night, and when it was the time to pour the last drops from Hagrid's bottles, they all were ready to continue the party outside the Red Chamber.

"Let's go join the big party!" Crabbe shouted, and everybody agreed.

They left the room and Snape, who was snoring in his chair.

Later in the evening, there was a loud argument about what game would entertain the students for last nightly hours. The argument was taking place among some Hufflepuff and Slytherin students, whereas the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were following its process with great interest, except for Ron and Hermione, who were eating one another.

"Truth or Dare!"

"Dementor's Kiss!"

"Truth or Dare!"

"Why not chess?"

"Nah, that's boring… Striptease poker!"

"No! We want Dementor's Kiss!"

"Fuck that! Truth or Dare's more fun and challenging!"

"Fuck yourself! Dementor's Kiss is a wizard game, not some stupid fucking Muggle…"

"Shut the fuck up everyone, will you? If you want to play Dementor's, then do it with Bole and Baddock and Davies –and in another chamber! Nobody wants your Slytherin games, in case you haven't noticed, Warrington!"

"I didn't ask for your opinion, McMillan, fuck off. Fucking Hufflepuff trash…"

"I don't need to hear this!"

"I don't want you to stay here and hear this! Bugger off!"

"You bugger off with your Veritaserum pills, you fucking drug addict, Warrington!"

"I'm warning you, _Ernie_ McMillan…"

"SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU! FUCK!" 

Draco interrupted the noisy quarrel with a thunderous roar.

"Interesting usage of the word 'fuck'. It was mentioned eight times," muttered Hermione, interrupting the kiss with Ron. "Fucking hell."

Harry raised his brows and gazed at Hermione. Had she just sworn, as well?

Draco stormed at the Slytherins, glared at the Hufflepuffs and ignored all the others. He really didn't want to play the Dementor's Kiss, for some clearly obvious reasons. He didn't want to put either himself or Harry into a difficult situation.

"The winners of the day may decide. Is that okay with everyone? Not that I particularly care, though… We will decide it anyway."

Ernie McMillan moped but otherwise nobody protested.

"Blaise?" Draco asked.

"I want Dementor's Kiss."

"Granger?" 

"Truth or Dare," Hermione said, slightly amazed that Draco hadn't called her a Mudblood.

"Potter?" 

"Dementor's Kiss."

Draco raised his eyebrow at this, but turned then to Ginny Weasley.

"Weasley?"

Ginny flinched with fright but was able to stammer, "Truth or Dare."

"Alright," Draco smiled, "And I for one would like to know what the hell this famous Truth or Dare game is. So I say we play Truth or Dare."

"That's not fair!" Blaise huffed. "We didn't ask Professor Snape yet!"

"Well, if you want to and ask him, feel free to do so," Draco scowled. "But I think he's rather passed out."

Blaise sighed with defeat. "Alright. You win."

"Of course I win," Draco smiled.

The game Truth or Dare started with a great fuss. First, there seemed to be real trouble in forming a decent circle of students. Next, they were all so drunk that and noisy that the instructions had to be given seven times. But at last they were all composed, Neville sportingly agreeing to give his wand for the purpose. It was lit with a _lumos_ spell, and the first one who rolled it around the in the centre of the crowd was Neville himself.

The beams landed on Zacharias Smith, who chose dare and was forced to admit he had a crush on Hannah Abbot. Then it was Michael Corner's turn, and he chose dare, having to sing a love song to Cho Chang with his terrible voice. The game started mild, continued wild, and threatened to end catastrophically feral. 

The beams finally landed on Ginny Weasley.

"Kiss the person you feel most sexually attracted right now, Ginny," Colin Creevey grinned. 

"I… I…"

"Come on, do it!" Luna Lovegood encouraged. "It can't be that bad. Just a little kiss."

Ginny's eyes travelled at Hermione, looking scared. Hermione swallowed, realizing the situation fully.

"Um, I could choose the truth…"

"Then I ask you to tell us who it is," Colin was sly.

Ginny and Hermione exchanged nervous glances. 

"Alright," Ginny sighed. She crawled across the circle to Hermione and gave her a peck on the lips. Then she hastily crawled back to her original spot, cheeks as red as ripe apples.

Wild whistles and shocked yells made the chamber very noisy. Colin and all the other fifth year boys were nearly jumping out of their pants whereas the fifth year girls were too shocked to even stammer a sensible word of dismay. Ron looked back and forth between Hermione and Ginny, clearly confused beyond belief, opening his mouth as if to say something but nothing came out.

The only ones who did not look surprised were the nervously smiling Hermione, Harry and Draco. 

"Wow… Wish I had taken my camera with me!" Colin moaned.

"This is… _What is this?" Ron finally choked out. "Mione…? Ginny?"_

Wanting the situation to pass quickly, Ginny raised her wand and rotated Neville's one with a little spell. The _lumos_ beams landed on Draco Malfoy. 

It was now proven that even a person with more flush on her cheeks than naturally even possible, could go from that state to ice pale in just two and half seconds. Ginny only stared in shock at the elder Slytherin boy.

"Are you going to ask me or not, Weasley?" Draco looked superior and a bit annoyed.

"T-truth or d-dare, Malfoy," the young redhead stammered.

"Dare."

Ginny looked like she was going to die. Luckily enough, Harry then crept to her and held out a bottle in front of her nose.

"Take a dram, it won't kill you," he said, soothingly. "And remember to ask him to do something really embarrassing. You can't break the positive direction to where this game is going by giving a boring 'hug-the-prettiest-girl-in-the-room' task." 

Ginny took a long gulp of Harry's bottle, coughing mercilessly right afterwards. Harry grinned, having already gotten used to Warrington's dragon blood mixtures.

"Not battery acid, if that's what you think you took," Harry sniggered. "Now… Ask him to do something really discomforting."

Ginny seemed to have gained new strength from Harry's little pep talk and now eyed the gorgeous Slytherin hungrily.

"Show us what kind of underwear you're wearing, Malfoy."

"What?" Draco was genuinely surprised that the youngest Weasley could come up with such a suggestion. "Truth!"

"No! You won't take a truth!" squealed Lavender, and received encouraging cheers from at least half of the other girls in the room.

"Truth, I said."

"Then… Who's the one you've been shagging of late?"

"Dare!"

"Can you decide already, Draco?" Blaise sniggered, still very light-headed. Although she could well understand that Draco didn't want to bang out loud in front of everybody that he's been madly fucking Harry the Saint Potter during this last week.

"I choose dare. But I can't actually do the task, because I'm wearing nothing underneath right now," Draco grinned at Ginny, who went again from pale to red.

"Oh," she muttered. "Well… um… Going commando is really… eh… distracting, really… um… Too much information right now. Well, what do you usually wear?"

"Black," Harry replied for Draco.

Everybody's eyes turned to look at the Gryffindor in pure stupefaction. 

"How would _you know, Harry?" Neville squeaked._

Harry's grin was so wide it reached his ears, especially seeing Draco looking just like the rest of the group.

"I once got his laundry by accident. The house elves had mixed the packages. I got a clean set of grey Malfoy robes, two pairs of Armani Wizard trousers and five pairs of black boxers."

"What? When? What did you do with my Armani trousers?" Draco whinged, waking up from his trance. 

Harry chuckled. "It was in the beginning of this school year. And I'm not telling you what I did with your clothes."

Draco looked murderous. "They were my best set of robes and trousers."

"You didn't even notice they were missing!" Harry protested.

"Did too!"

"Alright, let's go on with the show…" Pansy tittered and poked Draco in the ribs. "Roll the wand, babe."

Draco turned his mind back to the game, however glaring at Harry playfully. His _lumos beams landed on Lavender Brown._

Lavender squealed with anticipation. "Dare! Dare!"

Draco raised an elegant brow. "Dare?"

"Yes! Dare!" Lavender squeaked.

"Alright… You could always dance for us, couldn't you? Exotic. No need to lighten your clothing this time, though… Just entertain us with your dancing skills."

And the game went on another half an hour, many of the students getting embarrassed, and even more getting highly intoxicated. At one point, Harry retreated from the circle, beginning to walk around everyone, an amused expression on his face. He was well aware that Draco's eyes followed him almost constantly, and he couldn't wait for a chance to jump the Slytherin and kiss him senseless.

"Have you ever kissed a boy, Ron? And if you have…  Who and when was it?" Justin Ficnh-Fletchley asked when he had rolled his wand successfully towards Ron.

Ron's cheeks went scarlet and his eyes widened. 

Harry stopped his walking and blanched. 

"Um… yeah, I have."

"Who?" Justin inquired, very eagerly.

"Um… Harry."

The uproar after this announcement was overwhelming. Harry held his breath, his eyes drifting to the gleaming grey ones that stared at him from the other side of the room. They reflected no more of their usual, teasing glow, but darkness… so much darkness… Harry felt his heart stop beating.

"When?" Justin continued, not letting the flushed Ron out of the hook so easily.

"Y-yesterday evening," Ron muttered. He cast nervous glances at both Hermione and Harry.

"But you were supposed to date Hermione, weren't you?" asked Colin, "I didn't know you were gay…"

"I'm NOT GAY!" Ron shouted, "I'm still with Hermione… at least I hope so." 

He looked at Hermione, who smiled weakly back, clearly flustered, knowing not what else to do.

"Not that there's… anything wrong with being gay, though," Ron added, with a significant glance at Harry.

But Harry didn't see this –he didn't see anything but those grey, bright eyes that only few minutes ago had adored him, but were now rapidly building walls around their owner.

"I think I'm feeling sick," Draco grimaced, and rose to his feet. "Really… sick…"

Everybody watched him go through a velvet curtain, behind which was a balcony. Blaise leapt up rapidly and ran after him.

"Well… not interested what _he_ thinks, anyways," Ron muttered, though falling silent when seeing how weirdly many of the players were now watching Harry.

"I think…" said Harry, averting his eyes from Montague and Etre's, "That I'm feeling a bit sick, too."

"Okay, the show must go on!" shouted Pansy, wanting the attention back to the game, and not to Harry or Draco. "Weasley, it's your turn to roll the wand!"

"Yeah, roll it, Weasley!" yelled Mary-Ann, and the Slytherin boys rioted approvingly.

Awkwardly, Ron returned to the game and made Neville's wand spin.

Harry silently retreated towards the balcony. The music in the room was rather distracting, as was the dim lightning, and he was happy to find himself going through the velvety curtain unnoticed. He found Draco smoking another cigarette, leaning his elbows to the balcony railing, having Blaise's arm around his waist. They were talking silently.

"Hey," Harry said, shifting nervously his weight from toes to heels.

Blaise turned around, glaring at Harry. She whispered something again to Draco and then cast a Silencing Charm around them.

"Just… make it quick," she advised Harry. "He's not in a talking mood."

And she went back inside.

"Draco…" Harry began, but fell silent when Draco whirled around, giving Harry a look of pure hatred.

"Don't dare address me, Potter! You filthy half-blood whore!"

Harry was hurt but tried to hide it. "Look, Draco, it's not what it sounded like… not at all…"

"I don't give a flying fuck about your wan explanations, Potter!" Draco spat, "You're polluted! You're… oh, LORD! How could you EVER let a WEASLEY touch you? Huh! I'm thoroughly DISGUSTED! I won't lay a finger on filth like you EVER again!"

"What you don't understand that I wasn't kissing Ron out of the sheer pleasure of it, I was trying to teach him how…"

"Out of the sheer pleasure of it! Really, Potter, I could've lived without knowing THAT little piece of mental image!" Draco's eyes were flaming cold acid. "Sheer pleasure, kissing a WEASLEY, for Morgan's sake!"

"Shut up and listen, will you!" Harry cried. "He's a very lousy kisser and I just thought I might show him…"

"You did show him, alright!" Draco rampaged. "And how did he like it? I bet he loved it."

"Draco, for the last time…"

"Go sod yourself, will you, fucking harlot!"

"Who are you calling a harlot, Malfoy?" Harry yelled, finally temper flaring. "Being the famous walking hard-on of the school already, having shagged everybody and everything that moves, I should say 'tis YOU who's the whore here!"

"Oh! Oh! This is just GREAT! Now I'M the whore! Oh, yes, all blame on me, just like always before!" Draco shouted. "Well, for your information, you little minx, from this on, I'm whoring WITHOUT YOU in my bed!"

"I never even was in you bed, now was I?" Harry seethed, "You never got me there, now did you?"

Draco was very pale with anger, his mien however showed no real expression of fury. "Luckily enough, I avoided having you there."

Harry flinched at the cold smoothness of those words, said in a silken manner. "You never cared about me, did you, Malfoy?" he asked.

"Of course not," Draco replied, however fighting hot tears from streaming down his cheeks. "What did you think, then? That I would fall in your trap, just because you had the nerve to lie to me that you loved me."

Harry was feeling like the whole world was shattering from around him. "It… It wasn't a lie."

"Don't you even start anymore, Potter," Draco hissed. "You don't love me. I will not follow you. You cannot change me. You cannot make me come to the Light side."

"I never even tried, Malfoy."

They were silent for a long moment, eyeing each other warily, until Draco moved towards the curtains that led inside.

"So, this is it?" Harry cried after him.

"This is it," Draco replied, without looking back.

"You just can't leave me like this!" shouted Harry, "You fucking idiot, why won't you believe that I didn't mean anything with… RON doesn't mean ANYTHING to me!"

"Nor do I," Draco glanced over his shoulder and sharpened his gaze. "Nobody really matters to you, do they, Potter?"

And he stepped through the velvet, out of the Silencing Charm bubble, and into the party house.

Harry stayed immovable, watching the canvas settle down to heavy pleats after Draco was gone.

…TBC…

A/N: I'm finding it rather difficult to write this, as you might've noticed… Next chapter's full of misery, though, which I think I can manage tolerably. Everyone in favour of a long fight, raise your hands in the air… and those who are not, just scowl.


	21. UnBreak My Heart

**21. Un-Break My Heart**

It took him only two minutes to storm down to the Bar and find Ron Weasley sitting at the counter with Hermione. Ron was clearly having fun time in making Hermione drink some more wine, and he seemed to be very relaxed and happy. Harry's stomach lurched and he balled his fists so hard that his knuckles went white.

It was the first time in six years that he had felt such strong animosity towards his supposed-to-be-best friend.

"What the FUCK were you thinking?" Harry roared, grabbing Ron from the shoulder and turning him around in the spinning chair. "I am THIS CLOSE to KILL you," Harry twined his fingers roughly around Ron's throat.

"H-h-harry, what are you d-doing?" Ron squeaked.

"How could you do something like that?" Harry yelled back at him, eyes flashing with fury. "How could you tell them we kissed?"

"Calm down, mate, I didn't…"

"THE FUCK I'M CALMING DOWN, YOU STUPID OAF!" Harry wasn't listening. "Sometimes I think there's nothing between your ears! Do you even realize what you've done?"

"Um… Harry, I'm sure you two can sort this out," Ron was stammering, "I can help you with that. Ask him here and I'll explain everything…"

"Are you listening to me at all?" Harry roared. "He's gone! He's fucking left the building, for what I know! And believe me, I wouldn't ask him to look at your sordid freckled face just for the sake of my own peace of mind. He's that precious to me! AND YOU HAVE FUCKING RUINED IT ALL!"

Harry's grasp grew stronger and Ron certainly looked horrified now. "H-harry…"

Eyes darkening to almost black-green with anger, Harry pushed Ron down from the chair, on the floor. "Fuck you, Ron!"

Hermione had begun to cry. "Harry, please calm down. Really, if you would only tell us _who he is_…"

"And you should definitely _not fuck him, Mione," Harry continued, as if not having heard her. "Ginny's far better off than Ron –although she's a Weasley, too."_

Ron's mouth opened at the insult, and he was definitely at a loss what to do or say. He tried to get up, but Harry placed a boot over his chest, waving his finger.

"Don't bother, or I'll kick you."

"Harry…" sobbed Hermione. "You're just so drunk now. Couldn't we speak of this tomorrow… when… when you won't be so close to killing Ron?"

"I'm afraid things won't change that much in five hours," Harry growled. "But if I was you, Ron, I'd really hope they would."

Ron gulped, his face being very pale.

"Harry, you've been acting very strangely these past weeks…" Hermione sniffed. "You've not been yourself. I can sense there's so much more going on than what you care to explain us. I'm sure, if Ron had known better…"

"Yes, if Ron had known better, he'd kept his bloody mouth shut. And I mean, if he would've known his own best better!" Harry grunted, digging his heel in Ron's stomach, making his friend wail silently. He ignored the fact that half of the bar was watching him.

"This is entirely your own fault, Harry," Hermione scowled. "If you wouldn't have shut us both out of your life, the way you've done so often lately, we would've known what the situation was. Now, I'm not the kind of girl who usually thinks ill of any kind of exceptional personalities, such as homosexuals, and I am sure that if you would've given us the privilege to know how you feel inside, if you would've explained us your feelings…"

"Exceptional personalities, is that what you call gays?" Harry spat. "Well fuck you, too. Don't try to pepper up this drunken conversation with some bloody stupid girlish la-di-dah, Mione, I'm not in the mood right now. Just bloody make sure Ron stays out of my way, if you want him stay alive."

Harry stormed off, casting a murderous look at the squirming Ronald Weasley as he went.

Draco was sitting in a collapsed position on the shower floor. Cooling water was stealing away the hot tears that swelled from his eyes. He curled in a little heap in the corner, leaning his back on the cold ceramic tiles, shivering with both anger and misery.

So it had happened to him. 

He had let himself fall in love with someone.

Gasping for more air, he bent his head backwards and looked at the white ceiling. His blurry eyes couldn't focus on anything, and his drunken state did not help the matter at all. He felt like dying there and then.

"How could he do something like that? Fuck him… Damn, I'm so pathetic…"

Draco scraped his wrists and inner arms with his fingernails, wanting to hurt himself. He spoke silently at the empty bathroom, wanting to clarify his own thoughts. However, he felt only more miserable, the more he thought about Harry.

"Of course he was only playing with me. After all, he's not that different from me… He's quite much like me, really… But how could he go with Weasel… For Merlin's sake, _Weasel_…"

Angrily, Draco kicked the opposite wall of the shower cubicle. It didn't end up to anything except his left heel hurting. He scowled at the ceiling again, groaning with anger.

"I know I have had my own adventures… I know I'm not the most innocent one… But I never betrayed Potter… Not Potter…"

New tears made his eyes blur, and he sobbed them down. 

"Malfoy's don't cry… I haven't cried in thirteen years… I'm not going to start now…"

He ducked his head under the cold shower and inhaled the watery air through his mouth. His hair was in wet curls all over his face but he was too tired of wiping them away.

He was too tired to do anything at all.

"Let me in! Is Draco there?"

Harry had been running through the whole party house, in his search for Draco, but had not been lucky. Now he was standing in front of the Red Chamber, nearly banging the door inside.

The red wood creaked open and a very icy-looking Montague emerged in the doorway.

"Potter, I suggest you drag your sorry ass far away from this area," he snarled. "In case you haven't noticed, you're not exactly in our favour anymore."

"Where's Draco? I need to talk to him," Harry insisted. "I fucking need to explain!"

"Draco is not here. And even if he was, I'm sure he wouldn't want to hear your explanations. So bugger the fuck off."

"I will not!" Harry crossed his arms.

Montague lazily leaned at the doorframe. "Tut, tut, Harry boy… Kissing the Weasley guy… I really don't blame Draco. Even a Blast-Ended Skrewt would've been a better choice, if forgiveness from him was sought."

"Skin a little bit deeper, will you!" Harry yelled. "It was not a real kiss! I would never do anything like that! I love Draco!"

"Yeah, sure, that's what he told us. And sure what a way to show it, too, Potter," Montague smirked.

"Fuck you Rodriquez," Harry spat, "You don't understand shit!"

"No, I really don't understand shit," Montague grinned, "And shit was exactly the thing what you did to my friend."

"IT WAS NOT A REAL KISS!" Harry shouted his lungs out.

"Oh?" Montague raised his dark brows. "So it was just a little kiss? A half-done kiss? A fake kiss? A reluctant kiss?"

"I was trying to teach my friend how to do it."

"Yeah, well, Weasley certainly needs all the help he can get," Montague mocked. "But what you did was still wrong. How would you feel if you found out Draco's been teaching Terry Boot how to kiss, in secret from you?"

"He's been kissing Terry Boot?" Harry gaped. "HOW FUCKING DISGUSTING!"

Montague smirked. "No, he has not. In fact, you're the first one of his relationships where he's taken the trouble of staying single-hearted."

"I am? He's betrayed his former… em… partners?"

"More like he had several partners at the same time… But you were the first to make him drop all the others."

Harry smiled, despite the sticky situation. He felt warmness surge in his veins, and he felt the need to find Draco even more pressing.

"Look, I am truly sorry for what I did. It was a stupid mistake. And I need Draco's forgiveness."

"Well, good luck. But you're not going to find him here. He's gone to the dungeons," Montague finished, and closed the door at Harry's face.

Draco lazily put on a pair of pyjama bottoms, made of deep red cotton. He didn't find the energy to dry his hair properly, nor did he have the energy to search for the upper part of the pyjama. He merely glared at his reflection from the mirror, who was, for the first time in her mirror-life, silent.

"Nothing to comment on tonight, Mirror?" Draco drawled. "Or don't you have the guts to tell me how fucked up I look?"

"Your eyes seem to be a bit red, I admit," was the timid answer.

Draco scowled at his reflection, took his wand and fixed the matter. 

"Better?"

"You could also do something about those scratch marks on your arms, dearest," the mirror suggested.

Draco did as he was told, understanding that it wasn't appropriate for him to show any signs of weakness.

"What else?"

"Nothing else, darling," the mirror sang, "You're again your gorgeous self."

"Go sod yourself, I know I look like shit," Draco snarled.

"I rather like the wet look of your hair," was the reply.

"You always were a vain ass-kisser thing, weren't you?" Draco actually smiled, despite the fact that he was so miserable. And angry. 

"So… I took your advice and got a little closer to Potter."

"And what was the result?"

Draco sighed. "I got us both obsessed and now I hate both him and myself. And don't ask."

"Alright, I will not," said the mirror, a bit insulted.

"Also, I know Potter's coming over tonight," Draco continued, merely speaking to himself. "He's not giving up so easily. He will come here, and he will beg me to forgive him. I can sense his despair of explaining his motives to me. But guess what? I'm not interested to hear."

"I don't know what you are talking about, sweetheart."

"We had our first and last fight, Mirror. He betrayed me."

"Oh, that's terrible!" the mirror shrieked.

"More like repulsive," Draco corrected. "And I have no intention to forgive him."

He stared rather blankly at a hairspray container Blaise had accidentally left in the room. However, soon the little words began to give him a new meaning.

"Pressurized container… yeah, that's me," Draco read. "Protect from sunlight and do not expose to temperatures exceeding +50 degrees Celsius." _Harry._ "Do not pierce or burn, even after use." _Yes, Harry…_ "Do not spray on naked flame or any incandescent material." _Harry. "Keep away from sources of ignition." __Harry. "No smoking." _The hell with that! _"Extremely flammable." __Damn right I am!_

Draco ignored the fresh tears that were threatening to spill out from his eyes and left for the empty common room.

Harry whirled up the stairs towards the Chess Room, from where loud music was flooding down the archway. He jumped three steps up at a time, hurrying towards the exit. He decided to avoid the full dance floor by sneaking along the walls and between the chess piece furniture, wanting to get rapidly forwards. _Dungeons, dungeons, dungeons… He's in the dungeons…_ He was making a successful job, until he stumbled over something and smashed down on his stomach. All the air left his lungs and he lay on the floor, gasping for oxygen, tears swelling from his eyes because he couldn't move.

Desperately angry, he made a difficult effort to roll around to see where he had staggered. And was greeted with something so weird and disgusting he couldn't believe his eyes.

Gregory Goyle molesting a panic-stricken Argus Filch on the floor.

"Get off me boy!" Filch was screaming, however efficiently locked under Goyle's noticeable weight. "Get off me! This is highly inappropriate! I will give you detention, do you hear me?"

Goyle only smiled and tried to kiss Argus. "You're so cute when you're angry, Ficlhie."

Harry gagged, which made him feel even more out of oxygen.

"Mr. Goyle, I will not tolerate this! I am a respectable member of the staff and will not… mmf!"

Harry gagged again, seeing how Goyle pressed his tiny mouth against Filch's and kissed him.

"Mmmf, get off me this bloody second, boy!" Filch screamed again. "Help! Somebody!"

Harry felt how he was little by little gaining the ability to breathe again. Thus he staggered on his knees, holding his stomach and massaging his aching jaw. He wondered if he should do something about Goyle and Filch, when an idea struck him.

"Goyle!" he tried to shout, however his voice still weak and coarse.

But luckily enough, Gregory still heard him. He whirled around, scared, however not letting go of the caretaker. 

"Thank Merlin for Potter," muttered Filch.

"Let's make a deal, shall we, Goyle?" Harry smirked. "You tell me the password to the Slytherin dungeons, and I will let you continue with Filch."

Goyle looked very much disturbed, and his puny brains seemed to work hard on the decision.

"Pretty please, Goyle?" Harry tried to smile meekly. "I need to apologize to Draco, you know that. And I'm sure you have some… er… unfinished business with your own… er… conquest here."

Goyle looked down at the squirming Filch and came to a result. "Opulentia."

Harry raised his brow, but did not ask what it meant. He managed to rise on his feet and, taking support from the wall, he proceeded towards the Key Hall.

"Thanks, Goyle. And have fun," he winked back at the Slytherin boy.

"Potter! You cannot do this to me!" whined Filch.

But Harry ignored him.

He had now other things in his mind.

Things like Draco Malfoy and the password to the Slytherin dungeons.

Draco stood there by the fireplace, only in his silky pyjama bottoms. His perfectly muscled arms and chest were outlined by the dim lightning, and Harry was reminded of once certain time in Madame Pomfrey's living room, not so long ago, when they were drinking hot chocolate together. Draco was currently stubbing out a cigarette. Harry felt the urge to ravish the beautiful boy in front of him just there and then.

"Hey, Draco."

The blonde head turned slowly around, and the grey eyes glittered menacingly through the curtain of wet silky hair.

"I was expecting you."

Harry looked a little surprised. "You were?"

"Unfortunately I knew you'd come to apologize again. However I might tell you right away that you're wasting your time."

"Just let me explain."

"You already did, at the balcony. What more there is that you wish me to know?"

Harry scowled. "I just want to make this all right again."

Draco merely laughed. "Guess what, Potter, even a hero like you can't always repair everything."

Harry sighed. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, you can't possibly understand how bad mental damages I have gotten from Weasley's little revelation tonight. To think, I gave you a kiss without knowing whose lips they actually were that you were wanting to fondle you!"

"I did _not_ want Ron!" Harry yelled. "How can you even come to think something as insane?"

"Well, let me see," Draco mock-thought about the matter, "You kissed him, French kissed him for all I know, and you ask me how I came to think about the idea?"

"It's partly your own fault, Malfoy!" Harry lost his temper. "If you hadn't told Ron that his relationship with Hermione was going badly downwards, he wouldn't have asked me to teach him to kiss! It's your fucking own fault, you see? You just _have_ to be an arrogant and bullying prick all the time, you just couldn't leave Hermione and Ginny issue out of it, now could you? Ron was _miserable for heaven's sake, and what are friends for if not helping them…"_

"Cut the fucking crap, Potter, I don't want to hear your ranting anymore."

Harry was beyond furious by this point. "That's just sad, because I'm not stopping before you forgive me and take me back!"

Draco sneered at Harry. "Take you back? What on earth are you talking about, Potter?"

Harry walked to Draco and took him from the front of his waistband, pulling him closer. His voice was menacing as he glared at Draco. "I won't let you go, Malfoy. You're just too pretty for that."

Something alike disgust intruded Draco's irises and the blonde raised a hand, slapping Harry across the cheek. "I'm not your whore, Potter."

"I thought you were," Harry growled, not able to help the insulting words that were coming out of his mind.

"Well, you thought wrong," Draco calmly said. "It was the other way around."

Harry lost his temper completely and lunged at Draco. They both fell on the floor, Harry on top of Draco, and soon Draco was pinned under Harry's body. 

"Going to rape me now, Potter?" Draco fizzled.

"Don't push your luck," Harry snarled, straddling the Slytherin. "I came here to tell you that you can't walk away from me. I won't let you."

"In case you haven't realized, I don't take orders. I give them. And now I order you to GET THE FUCKING HELL OUT OF HERE!"

Harry grasped Draco's damp hair with his both hands, slamming the Slytherin's head harshly against the green carpet.

"I'm not going anywhere. I won't let you leave me, you fucking bastard," he hissed, and placed a bruising kiss on Draco's lips. He seemed not to be satisfied with that, however, and pulling Draco's hair even more powerfully, forced Draco into a deep French kiss. 

Draco's eyes flashed with anger and he bit Harry's tongue. Harry retreated growling.

"Don't you fucking kiss me, you whore," Draco snarled. "Don't _ever_ kiss me again."

Harry spat the blood from his mouth on Draco's bare chest and smirked dangerously. "I can hardly believe you meant what you said, seeing as you're hard against my thigh."

Draco hissed so angrily it would've scared the shit out even from Nagini. "You might be able to make my body response to you, but you won't ever get my heart."

"We'll see about that," Harry breathed. He stared Draco straight in the eye, their noses nearly touching.

"Get the fuck out of here, Potter," Draco sharpened his already sharp gaze. "I fucking hate you."

Harry flinched a little, but didn't let Draco rise from the floor. Not that the Slytherin was even trying anymore, though. He seemed to have settled in verbal battle.

"Do you honestly think I gave a shit about you, that is, other than your pretty ass?" Draco sizzled. "Do you honestly think that I, Draco Malfoy, would let myself fall for some half-blood trash like you? You pathetic wanker, all I ever wanted of you was submission. I wanted to control you. And I bloody fucking well have succeeded, taken that you're now more than begging me to come back! Don't misunderstand me, Potter, I really liked our twisted sex affair, but now it's time to finish it. I have more important things to attend to."

"Such as?" Harry seethed.

"Currently, enjoying your mental disarray," Draco smirked. "That's really what I was set to arrange, you know."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Oh, just some Death Eater secrets, my pretty lover," Draco continued to smirk. "Or did you forget that I'm to become one of them soon?"

Harry let go of Draco's hair and leaned backwards. "You really shouldn't be bragging about things like that, might get you into trouble."

"As if you cared," Draco was slightly put out by the concerned tone that Harry's voice held.

"I do care," was all Harry said.

Draco made an attempt to rise, and Harry let him. Soon, they both were again standing, facing each other in the middle of the Slytherin common room.

"Well, I don't care if you care," Draco grinned maliciously. "I'm not yours to worry about."

"Yes you are," Harry swallowed. "You're mine."

"And where the hell did you get an idea like that?"

"From your eyes, Draco. They _can_ betray you sometimes, you know."

"Go fuck yourself, Potter. And preferably, far away from my eyesight."

Harry scowled again dangerously. "You're being stupid now, Malfoy. Stupid and jealous, and drunk."

"Nothing that you are not."

Sighing, Harry walked to Draco and twined his arms around the pale, furious boy. "I love you. You know I do."

Draco battled inwardly, but didn't let any of it show out.

"Potter, if you once lay those hands on me again, I will have to cut them off. I don't want anything to touch me that have once touched a Weasley. You are disgusting."

"Draco…" Harry pleaded. But to no avail.

Draco grabbed Harry from his wrists, wrenched him apart and began to lead him towards the entrance. Once getting the door open, he took a firm grasp of Harry's jaw and smiled at him creepily.

"One last memory," he said and kissed Harry tentatively, almost lovingly, before pushing him harshly from the jaw, making him fall on his back on the aisle floor.

There were tears in Harry's green eyes.

"Good bye, _darling_," Draco mocked, before slamming the door firmly shut.

…TBC… 

A/N: Votes go for a long fight… But I try not to make it _too_ long… Bear the misery and anger until it is Monday in this story, and you'll be fine. :) 


	22. Feathers

**22. Feathers**

Morning dew. Refreshing, resurrecting, cool dampness that made his trouser legs go wet. He knelt on the green mattress of grass that was now bathing in the early sunshine. A couple of silvery cobwebs glimmered with the water pearls under the light, tightly sticking to the hays. The flowers were yet to open their colourful petals, and the meadow seemed dormant. Only one early maroon butterfly had ventured to wake up at this ungodly hour.

"What have I done?"

It was a halfway rhetorical question. Draco followed the butterfly with his gaze, squeezing the sword by his side. 

But he would not kill this time.

"What did I do to you, Harry? Why did it end up like this?"

Draco felt the dampness seep through his trousers as he sat on the moist ground. But he didn't care.

"I said so much stupid things to you."

Raising his pale face towards the rising sun, Draco closed his eyes and let his guilty mind capture his soul.

"It was only one stupid kiss, after all. It wasn't a huge sin. And I acted like a stupid teenager."

_Wait! You are a stupid teenager! _said a voice in his head.

"Shut up. Besides, I was very drunk."

_Not an excuse…_

"Shut up."

Bringing the gleaming sabre in front of him, Draco read the name on its blade. _Draco Lucius Malfoy_.

"What does that name mean to you?" he asked himself, out loud. "Except that you're destined to be an evil, sneaky and devilish bastard with bad faith in everyone. _Maleficus_, you also _bring_ bad faith to everyone. Go home and get yourself killed, Draco."

He allowed the sharp blade cut his ivory skin, right above his wrist.

"You didn't want to fall in love, because you thought love was a weakness," Draco spoke to his own reflection, which was shimmering in the blade's surface. "And more because you were afraid nobody would ever really love you back."

The blood slowly started to dribble down his forearm, and the sharp edge of the sword shone bright red.

"Just a smooth, shallow cut… It hurts you, but it doesn't kill you."

_You're completely insane, did you know that? You've lost your mind. Go see Pomfrey. Or better yet, a real therapist._

"Shut up."

_Let's see. Just a shallow cut, eh? Hurts, but doesn't kill? Is that what you think of Harry now?_

"I said, shut up."

Draco suddenly sprung on his feet and turned around, wanting to face the retreating night sky. The horizon in the west was still nearly black.

"He said he loved me," Draco said silently. "I didn't believe him."

_Of course you didn't, you idiotic, cocky prick! You don't know what that word even means. Or do you?_

"Yes I do," Draco cried indignantly at the empty meadow. "Otherwise it wouldn't hurt this much, would it?"

_Ooh, progress! Are you going to admit yourself that you're miserable without him?_

"No, of course not. I'm in denial, remember."

_Oh, of course. How stupid of me._

"Shut the fuck up, will you! I'm really trying to process this matter, and your shitty remarks don't help one little bit!"

_Do you realise you're arguing against your own fucking mind, Draco? Now tell me, is that completely sane?_

"Of course it is. Everything a Malfoy does is always completely sane and reasonable."

_Sure it is._

"Yeah."

Draco swung the sword through the air, brought his lips to the wound on his wrist and licked it clean. 

_Insane._

"Shut up. There's one thing I must do now."

**

Elsewhere, away from Draco Malfoy and his rant against his own mind, was a dark-haired boy, huddled in a corner. He was shaking with misery, but his eyes were dry of tears. He had cried those tears out until there came no more, and now he was just shaking. Harry Potter was hyperventilating with an overdose of sorrow. 

Harry had escaped the Slytherin dormitories up to the Owelry after Draco had thrown him out. There, in the darkness, he had spent the rest of his night, Hedwig hooting comfortable noises in his ear.

"I lost him, Hedwig," Harry said silently, the one sentence he had let out over fifty times already during the morning hours. "I really lost him."

Harry was completely cold, since he was still in his party outfit, and the Owelry had no fireplace. But he thought he deserved every bit of the chillness. Luckily the dampness of the morning did not reach the high tower, nor did the haze that floated over the lake, which is why Harry avoided having flu another time that autumn.

Draco Malfoy's picture was blazing behind Harry's closed lids, never wavering. The aristocratic features, sharp steely eyes, full and soft mouth, milky skin with a little shimmering scar under the left eye...

A loose feather landed on Harry's nose, and he took it in between his fingers. It was silvery.

"Nocens?"

A grey eagle owl had just perched himself on the windowsill, claws and beak coloured with something dark red. Obviously it had been hunting, and had now returned to get some rest.

"You are so beautiful," Harry sighed. "Just like your owner."

Straightening his rigid-gone body, Harry sat up in a better position. He reached out his hand at Nocens.

"Would you let me touch you? It would be wonderful to touch something that is his."

The eagle owl cocked its head, lifted his left leg and stretched its toes, oozing faked indifference.

"Please?" Harry shot his ever-green gaze at the bird.

Nocens gracefully made a circle in the Owelry and then landed on Harry's knee. Hedwig went rampant, and started to fly around the other owl, trying to shoo it away.

"Calm down, Hedwig," Harry scowled at his snowy princess. "I want him here."

Hedwig looked at Harry, clearly very insulted, and winged its way up on a perch above Harry's head.

"So…" Harry smiled at the eagle owl. "How's your night been going? Mine was awful."

Nocens eyed Harry suspiciously.

"I see you've been busy hunting," Harry smiled fondly at the eagle owl. "I tried hunting as well, but didn't catch my prey. He got away."

Hedwig hooted and Nocens dug its claws deeper in Harry's knee. Harry didn't even flinch.

"You know, Nocens, I'm terribly in love with your master," he started, looking severely at the bird. "I know he's an overconfident git, but that's exactly what makes him so irresistible. His tantrums, his scowls, the rough way he handles me. He isn't afraid of me the way the others are. He doesn't give a fuck about the fact that I'm famous, because he is famous too. He doesn't give a fuck about my feelings, because he's only seeking for his own pleasure, which suits me fine. I am sick of people trying to make me feel better, trying to console me because of what Voldemort has done, trying to cheer me up."

Harry held a break.

"But Draco's not like that. He ignores me the best part, and when he doesn't, he shags me senseless. Or vice versa. Pure, unadulterated passion. And that… That has changed into love, on my part. Only because there was no reason for it to turn into love. There was no pressure. There were no ties. No promises."

The Owelry was silent, except for some barely audible hoots from the high perches.

"And do you know what happened next, Nocens? No, of course you don't," Harry sighed, examining the majestic eagle owl's chest feathers. "Well, anyway, I made the most stupid mistake of my life. I tried to teach my best friend how to kiss. It wasn't anything from my part or his, it was just one stupid awful kiss, and it spoiled everything. It insulted your master very much, and he dumped me."

Harry hit his left fist hard against the floor, so that it hurt. At that, a picture fluttered out of Harry's arms. Nocens ruffled his neck feathers.

"It's my happiest memory," Harry explained, weakly smiling, "My dearest and happiest memory. It was taken last Halloween."

The picture-Draco closed his eyes in bliss when the picture-Harry shoved a tongue in his mouth. Nocens blinked.

"He tastes so good, you know… He's like a mixture of everything I find delicious. Cinnamon and vanilla, because of his cigarettes… and then there's this one genuine flavour, hard to explain… so enticing…"

Harry sighed and picked the picture up, pressing it against his heart.

"I really miss him, you know," Harry confessed. "I've been only a few hours apart from him, and yet I'm dying to see him again. Even if the only thing he'd descend to give me was a finger."

Nocens looked uncomfortable and shifted its weight from foot to another.

"It's okay," Harry said, "You can go if you like. I won't ask you to deliver him any messages. I know he'd throw them in the fireplace without even opening them."

The eagle owl didn't move.

"Really, you can go," Harry said, smoothing its silvery, although slightly ruffled feathers. "And I'm thankful that you stayed with me this short while."

Hedwig let out a snorting sound, and Nocens glared at the owl. Then the eagle owl spread its magnificent wings and took off, flying out of the tower window.

"Take care of him," Harry shouted after the bird, before turning again to himself. "Heaven knows I couldn't," he muttered.

It was a bright morning. Harry took slow steps towards the Owelry door, yawning. The floor creaked under his feet as he tried to dodge some dead mice and other remnants of the owls' meals. And then, suddenly out of the darkness of the high ceiling, a large eagle owl flew in front of him, landing on his arm. Harry noticed that its feathers were smooth and silken, its beak and claws completely clean of blood. It even looked sleepy.

"Nocens? I thought you just…"

Harry fell silent, understanding he hadn't been talking to Nocens at all.

**

Draco breathed rapidly, tired after transforming back to his own self. 

"He loves me, and truly regrets what he's done."

Some silvery feathers were still stuck on his cloak, and he smoothed them away quickly. 

"I must forgive him," Draco decided. 

_But you want to tease him too. A little revenge._

"Hmm… Not a bad idea."

_Of course not, silly brat, you made it! But what is it with that revengeful nature of yours? _

"What do you mean?"

_You just won't go and find him, kiss him and tell him that it's all right. You just have to be a heartless bastard._

Draco combed his white hair back from his eyes with his fingers and smirked. 

"Oh, I can't change overnight, you know."

…TBC…


	23. The Dragon Tamer

A/N I: Sorry this took so long! I've been very busy, but I promise to hurry with chapter 24, since I know exactly what I write in it… ;)

A/N II: As to my updating schedule, I try to make a new chapter ready every second weekend. But sometimes it goes faster, and sometimes I just can't get myself to write at all. So I don't have any regular updating days. But as I said, the interval usually tends to be two weeks.

A/N III: Thanks for everyone who reviewed. I love you all so much! My heart is bursting out with all the kind words I received. *sigh*

**23. The Dragon Tamer**

The red eyes, the swollen lids. They both had tamed a little during Harry's journey back to the Gryffindor Tower. Instead, the fury of the previous night was seeping through his system again, powerful, mind-clutching. The familiar determination of Harry James Potter was taking control.

Harry slammed the door of his dormitory room forcefully against the wall and marched straight at one four-poster next to his own.

"Ron!"

Ronald Weasley bolted up from his bed so fast that he lost his balance and smashed onto the floor.

"I think we have some unfinished business," Harry smirked.

Blue eyes widened as Ron realised who it was. "Harry…"

"Yeah. Me." Harry's expression was lacerating, and if someone had realized to connect, much like Draco's when the Slytherin was angry.

Ron stumbled on his feet, swaying a little, and leaned on the wall. He instantly began to fidget with the buttons on his pajama top.

"Harry… I am so sorry."

"I know," Harry said, expression not changing.

"I… Er… You didn't find him?"

"Oh, I found him, alright."

"…and?"

"He left me."

"Oh."

Harry smiled creepily. "See, Ronnekins, I'm not very happy with you right now. But."

"B-but?"

"But since I'm not willing to lose _two beloved friends in a matter of six hours, I am willing to forgive you."_

"Y-you are?" Ron stammered, uncertainly.

"Yeah, I am." Harry looked wild. "If."

"…if what?"

Harry brushed the ebony hair from his eyes and trailed his finger down along his cheek, smirking.

"You are going to do me some favours."

"Favours?"

"Stop answering me with silly one-word sentences. You heard me right."

Harry grabbed Ron's black school robes that were lying on the chair next to the redhead's bed, and threw them at Ron.

"Get dressed. We have a long Saturday ahead of us."

Ron obeyed, still wiping sleep dust from his eyes. "Harry, it is bloody seven thirty in the morning!"

"And what a fine morning it is," Harry said, finding Ron's shoes and placing them in front of his half-forgiven friend. "By the way, do you know if any other than Malfoy has an eagle owl?"

"Not that I've heard," Ron said, shrugging, and closed the belt of his trousers. 

Harry scowled at himself and bit his lip. "Oh, what the hell… Perhaps it was just a wild stray."

"By the way, you got an owl last night," Ron remembered. "I put the letter on your pillow."

Harry raised a brow, turned and went to fetch it. "It's from Remus."

_H._

_The Dark Lords' troops are getting anxious. Obviously something is going on. Be vigilant. They might have somebody inside Hogwarts._

_R.L._

"Somebody inside Hogwarts, indeed," Harry smiled.

Ron had been reading the letter over his shoulder, and sharpened his eyes. "Bet it is Malfoy."

"Of course it is Malfoy," Harry smiled even wider.

Ron looked at him as if he'd grown two heads. "What's so wonderful about it?"

"Oh…" Harry simpered, "Nothing." 

_Just that I don't fucking care if he betrays me right now, because he has left me. If I cannot get him, I might as well die. Stop! No. That is not right. I know he has this mission, but I also know he wouldn't… he wouldn't betray me. Would he? Even though I did that to him. Would he? Fuck, I need to get him back. That's the only thing that matters right now. Fuck everything else. Fuck Voldemort. Draco…_

"Harry?"

"Huh?"

"What are you contemplating?"

Harry shook his head, dismissing the disturbing thoughts. "Ron. When I said you were going to do me some favours… Let's make the rules more clear."

"Okay," Ron shrugged.

"You will do anything I tell you, during these next twenty-four hours. You will not question, you will not wonder, you will not think of my motives. You will just act, alright? No matter how crazy my ideas might sound."

"Um…"

"And you will pretend that you do this all by your own free will."

"Er…"

"If you will comply, I will forgive you, and we'll be good friends again."

Ron looked Harry straight in the eye, and despite seeing there a mad little glint, he still trusted his friend, "Deal."

"Draco, where have you been?"

It was Pansy, looking worried. Mary-Ann and Blaise were sitting on a green Slytherin couch right behind her, glancing at his direction anxiously. There were also half of the other sixth and seventh years present, all of whom were suffering from tremendous hangovers. Etre even held a wet towel over his face and didn't see or hear anything in his half coma.

"Oh, I just went for a little fly," Draco grinned.

"Quidditch practise?" asked Gregory Goyle, looking very sick, holding a half-full paper bag in front of his face, "At this ungodly hour?"

Bole smacked the thick-headed Gregory in the head. "No, you dumb ass, he said he went for a little _fly."_

Vincent poked Gregory on the arm, stirring his eyes in the dim light, his head aching. "That eagle thing, remember?"

"Oh," Gregory finally seemed to understand, but soon after returned to look at the insides of his bag.

"Yes, I tried some winged life for a while," Draco drawled, and made his way in the centre of the room. "I went to see Harry in my animagus form."

Blaise jumped up from her seat. "You went to see Harry," she repeated, swaying over to him, looking very tired.

"Yes," Draco smiled. "I think I'm going to forgive him."

"What?" Montague raised his gaze from the magazine he was reading. "You can't be serious!"

"Oh, but I am," Draco simpered. "He really loves me. I can tell."

"Of course he loves you," Pansy huffed, and swore afterwards as somebody inside her head decided to stab her brain.

Mary-Ann stretched her fingers lazily and yawned. "Oh, I think it is our Draco here who is in love."

Draco scowled at her. "Let's not get mushy, Greengrass. Harry needs to suffer a great deal before I even consider taking him back!"

Montague smiled, an evil glint lighting up in his eyes. "That's my Draco Malfoy! What do you have in mind?"

Draco's brows furrowed, deep in thought. "First I want all of you to know… There's only six days until we have to break up again. So don't get your hopes up about a wedding invitation."

Blaise, Mary-Ann, Millicent and Pansy all pouted. "But why?"

"Why?" Draco raised his brows. "I think you all know why."

"Because of the Call?" Etre muttered under his soaking cold towel. "Your initiation is next Saturday, right?"

Crabbe grunted. "Yeah, it is. My father just wrote me how much Lucius is ranting about it. He's overly joyous."

"Security leak, where to find it…?" Pansy sang silently, starting to polish her nails.

"So, I want Harry back for these six days," Draco finished. "And I do not want my father or Voldemort –or your father, for that matter, Crabbe- to find about it."

"Like that's going to remain a secret, with our wonderful Vincent and Gregory…" Pansy hummed.

"You all know I am going to refer to this as my secret mission if any information comes out."

"That's good," Pansy agreed.

"Aye, sir," Montague continued, grinning wild. "Now what shall we do about Potter? Is he a wreck?"

"I think he's quite a wreck," Draco admitted, smirking devilishly. "But he can handle what ever comes from us. Now… Any suggestions?"

"You want to make him jealous by dating someone else?" Goyle said.

"As in dating you, is that it?" Draco sneered. "Ugh, no thanks. Besides, I think that would be childish."

"This whole thing is childish," muttered Blaise.

"You're not helping me out here, Bini," Draco huffed. "Tell me what I could do, to make him miserable."

"You could always use the Messenger Spell… but instead of the words, you could send him images," suggested Blaise.

"Images, such as you shagging him senseless," Pansy grinned.

"You girls are such perverted bitches that I…" Draco began, but then fell silent. A smirk was soon in its place. "Actually, that was not a bad idea."

That morning's breakfast was one of the most silent kinds. There were only about fifty students in the Great Hall, majority of them younger than fourteen. However, Harry Potter was sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table with Ronald Weasley, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, a determined expression on his face, eating chocolate pudding with bad appetite.

"So you are gay," Dean stated, staring at his spoon, as if willing it to bend for his amusement. "Well, that makes then two of us."

"What?" both Ron and Seamus whirled around to face Dean, and Harry's jaw dropped open.

"What?" Dean pouted. "I'd say I was bisexual, but after dealing with Lavender last night, I might as well say I lost my thing for girls entirely."

Harry couldn't help bursting out laughing, but Seamus and Ron were still too shocked to stop reminding wide-eyed statues.

"She was impossible," Dean admitted. "And I think I could try something new that has been on my mind since last autumn."

"Something new like gay sex?" ventured Harry.

Ron gagged and Seamus made an indescribable sound. 

"Yeah, something like that," Dean smiled weakly. "I'd like to shag Malfoy. He's a real hottie."

Ron dropped off his bench, Seamus cried in dismay, and Harry's eyes narrowed in anger.

"Don't touch him," Harry snarled silently.

Dean was confused. "Why not?"

"Because he…" Harry stopped to think what to say. "Because he is _too_ hot. You'd only burn your fingers."

"Speaking of the devil…" Seamus interrupted, and gestured towards the Great Hall doors. 

Harry groaned when seeing a totally unruffled Draco Malfoy sail inside with Blaise, Pansy and Rodriquez, in pure white, lucid shirt and light blue trousers that licked his skin. Harry received none recognition whatsoever from him, and his heart swelled with both utter misery and lust. Forbidden fruit. That was what Draco was now to him. And oh, the thought drove Harry immediately irrational.

Harry wanted to bang his head on the table surface, but the fact that it was already aching with too much booze and crying from the previous night, made him rethink his decision.

"Too damn right, Harry," Dean said, his eyes bulging out of his head. "He really is too hot."

Harry just stared, in a state of shock. Now he was finally facing this in daylight. Draco was no more his secret –he was now his lost secret. But not forgotten. Not nearly. _Greenhouse effect. Yes. The time for the greenhouse effect._

"Ron, would you please pour that gigantic dandelion juice canister on me?"

"Huh?" Ron looked baffled.

"Why?" Seamus wanted to know.

"Just bloody do as I tell you, and do not ask questions," Harry scowled at Ron. "Remember, you owe me. And if I wish you to pour that bloody juice all over me, you bloody well make sure you do it, or I hex you senseless, so bloody there."

Ron grabbed the canister quickly and rose up from his seat, in order to reach better above Harry's head. Ron coughed, then shrugged, and turned the juice can over.

Harry pretended to be very affronted, spluttering the dandelion liquid and batting his wet lashes. His hair fell in wet strands down his forehead and cheeks, and he knew that he looked very sexy. Harry looked at his light green shirt which was now nearly translucent with the wetness, and attached to his skin. He ripped the buttons open and frowned at his oh-so-wonderful abs. He ventured a glance at the Slytherin table, where a certain blonde seemed to choke in his respective glass of the aforementioned dandelion drink.

"Thanks a lot, Ron," Harry said, pouting.

He rose up, ripped his shirt completely off, looked dismayed, shook his soaking black locks and left the Great Hall, making a real scene. 

Ron, Seamus and Dean rushed after him, all very confused.

"Bloody fucking hell, he did that on purpose!" Draco moaned. 

No, Draco actually _whimpered_.

"No, he didn't, it was Ron who got pissed with him," Blaise reminded. "Harry clearly admonished him quite harshly just before he did what he did."

"Do you think Ron might have a thing about Harry?" Montague dared. "That sopping wet shirt of his…"

Draco's eyes widened with revulsion, "What?"

Pansy and Blaise giggled, and Montague grinned. "Just kidding."

"No!" Draco was still shocked. "You might have a point there! How horrendous!"

"Draco, calm down," Pansy tittered. "Remember, this should be _your_ revenge, not _his."_

"What if Weasel has a thing about my Harry?" Draco said in half scream and half whisper. He was ashen.

"Draco," Blaise stopped laughing and glared. "Even if he did, I am sure Harry loves only you."

"You don't know that!" Draco whined. "I don't want revenge anymore! I want him back! Right fucking now!"

"No!" Montague groaned. "You are _not going to forgive him that fast! You're going to be downright shitty, evil bastard towards him, until _we_ say you can stop acting."_

"Oh, I don't take orders from anyone," Draco mocked. "Not even the Dark Lord –yet."

"Then do as a favour. Let us tell you what to do these next twelve hours," Blaise suggested. "We know what is best for you."

"Yeah," Pansy chorused. "We love you, in a Slytherin sort of way, and want the best for you. So trust us."

"But what if Weasley…? I know _Thomas looked at him with dilated eyes! Is Thomas gay?"_

"Draco, you're being paranoid," Blaise said.

"Am not! What? Is Dean Thomas gay? What if he decides to hit on my Harry? Then what? Dean is not that ugly, you know! If not the Weasel, then why not Dean Thomas! I'm gonna _kill _that sodding Gryffidor! I'm gonna kill _Harry_ if he dumps me for him! I…"

"DRACO!" yelled all Montague, Pansy and Blaise simultaneously.

"WHAT?" Draco panted. "WHAT?"

Montague hit him in the head. "Pull yourself together man!"

Pansy sighed, deep. "I guess we could finish this breakfast and go walking outside. It's not like any of us has gotten anything down, anyway."

Blaise agreed, and together with Montague, she lifted the protesting Draco out of his seat and pulled him towards the Hogwarts main entrance.

Harry, Dean, Ron and Seamus walked rapidly towards the Gryffindor tower, the latter two running after Harry and Dean. 

"What the hell was that all about?" Seamus panted. "Ron?"

"Um… I just felt like… doing something stupid."

"Oh, really?" Dean scowled, "As if you hadn't done something stupid last night, already!"

Ron went red, and remained silent.

"Harry, are you alright?" Dean asked, catching the ebony-haired boy.

"Yes, Dean, I'm quite okay," a smile lingered on Harry's lips. 

Dean smiled at him widely. "You know, I'm so happy that I could finally come out with my bisexuality. Nobody can tease me now, when the Boy-Who-Lived is also gay."

"Don't call me that," Harry warned, "And besides, me being gay is not known very widely yet."

"But it can't remain a secret, you know," Dean pointed out, "You're too popular."

"I know," Harry said, "But I don't care."

"I'm sorry for what Ron did to you. Can't you tell me who your boyfriend was?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why would I tell you, if I can't even tell Ron and Hermione?"

"Because I'm not them," Dean suggested. "And since I am a fellow gay companion, I could help you to get him back."

Harry bit his lip, as if thinking about what Dean had just said. He glanced over his shoulder, and saw Ron and Seamus a few steps behind, chatting amicably together about something.

"Dean, if I tell you who it is, I want you to keep it to yourself," Harry finally said. "When the time is right, I want my other friends to hear it from myself, you know."

"Trust me," Dean laughed, "We've been both through Lavender and her wide mouth, so I think we've both sick of gossip."

"And you promise to help me?" Harry continued.

"I'll do whatever I can, mate," Dean said, and then chuckled, "Although that might break my heart. You're quite gorgeous, Harry, and I'd love to keep you myself!"

Harry choked. "Dean!"

"What? Don't tell me you haven't checked _me out! I've seen you!"_

Harry blushed. "Alright, let's drop the topic. You want to know who my boyfriend was?"

"I'm all ears!"

Harry leaned in to whisper, "The one who is too hot."

Dean's eyes went wide as Halloween pumpkins, and he mouthed the name, without any sound coming out. "Draco Malfoy!"

Harry nodded, smiling coyly. 

"Oh my fucking shit!" Dean exclaimed, now in a whisper, very awed.

Harry glanced at Ron and Seamus, and was happy to find them far away. "Dean, keep it down, then."

"O-of course," Dean stammered. "But Harry… You and… and… Holy Raistlin!"

"Can you imagine how he reacted when he found out I had given a kiss to the _Weasel?_" Harry laughed, sadly. "I think I love him, Dean, and I want him back."

"But isn't he kind of… dangerous?" Dean hushed. "A Death Eater brat?"

"Yes," Harry said, "So?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "So I always knew you were a bit weird. But that's okay. I'll help you."

"Thanks mate," Harry patted Dean's back. 

"And the first thing you do, is to get rid of those wet clothes," Dean continued, putting a finger over his lips, as if thinking hard. "I think I have some garments in my wardrobe that would fit you _very well."_

"As long as it isn't your pink thongs and the waitress suit," Harry giggled.

Dean blushed. "Um, no. I was thinking about that new army shirt, remember? The one which I bought a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh, _that_," Harry simpered. "I remember _that_ alright!"

"_Accio Sabre!"_

Draco, Blaise, Montague and Pansy were sitting under a fat, serried oak nearby the lakeside, in the shadows of the long branches.

"Are you sure you want that sword right now, Draykie?" Pansy asked, massaging her temples with the hangover headache.

"It's a _sabre_, not a sword," Draco answered dryly. "And I need to practise some fencing. You never know when Boot or Weasley jump in my way, and I feel the need to split some hairs from their heads."

"_Accio sword!"_ Montague raised his left hand. Pansy glared at him.

"What?" Blaise asked her. "Oh, come on girl, they won't kill each other."

"No, but I'm still afraid that they do. Especially Draco can get easily carried away."

"Ha bloody ha," Draco huffed.

The beautiful sabre of Malfoy family emerged in Draco's hand, and a couple of moments later, Montague was holding his respective weapon.

"Let's begin, Draco. You really need to let out some steam."

"Damn right."

The boys went bit further away from the girls, and artfully readied themselves for the match. It was a rather beautiful scene –the mist of the morning not yet wholly subdued, and the sunbeams stealing their way from behind the clouds to make everything bathe in a golden fog. The weapons gathered some moist in their surfaces, Draco's subtle hair curled a bit from the ends, and Montague's locks went ruffled. The air was very humid to breathe.

"It's going to be a very hot day," Pansy declared from her place, opening some buttons of her shirt.

Draco smirked, swung the sword a couple of times, and faced Rodriquez. As the silver, fortified with magic, clanged together with the steel, all the worries of the world seemed to fade away. The adrenaline rushed into the sword-fighters' ears, and the surrounding world disappeared.

Draco made a slow level Occlumency spell with his friend's brain, and answered Montague's strikes with closed eyes. He wanted to relax completely, fall in the rhythm of their movements, and think about everything that had happened during the rapid two weeks between him and Harry. Besides, now that he could anticipate Montague's moves, he would not be in danger to hurt his friend, like last time.

_I wonder what could have happened last night if I would have forgiven Harry. He probably would have stayed, we could have had wild make-up sex, and he would be my completely submissive bitch today._

Draco opened his eyes halfway, seeing Montague smiling at him. Draco smiled back.

"So… Time to cast the first image, eh?"

Montague dodged Draco's strike. "Yeah. And make it very intense."

Draco concentrated, still fencing. The steady clashes of the swords made his mind work better, and he soon recollected some refreshing images from the past. 

_On the castle roof… Draco pinned Harry down against the stiles and flung the Gryffindor's legs over his shoulders. Harry was wriggling, but soon those whines were moans of elation… Heat of the movements… Draco was making Harry completely his own… Right that moment… Harry's nails scratching his back…_

"Oh, FUCK!"

Harry was trembling, very pale in the face, sitting on his bed in the Gryffindor tower.

"What is it?" asked Dean, who was just rummaging through his wardrobe.

"I… I…" Harry stammered. There were pearls of cold sweat on his forehead, and tears were in danger to fill his eyes. "I just… remembered something wonderful."

Seamus and Ron took careful glances at him. "Something wonderful shouldn't make you cry."

"It was… It was him," Harry sighed. "I really miss him."

_Silver-grey eyes penetrating in his soul… His body receiving another one, completely, irrevocably…_

"Oh, Merlin… I can't… Oh…" Harry began to sob uncontrollably, and covered his eyes with his hands. His whole chest was aching with misery and longing.

Ron looked difficult, Dean angry, and Seamus went to hug Harry.

"Come on… You'll get over it soon."

"I don't w-want to get over h-him," Harry wept. "I love him!"

"Why can't you tell us who he is," Seamus asked, gently. "I'm sure it wouldn't hurt anyone."

"I… I just can't, okay. Not yet."

"Okay, boys!" Dean interrupted, sounding both determined and amused. "Time for you to change style, Harry! Get up and drag your pretty ass here!"

Seamus and Ron helped the still-crying Harry up, and shoved him in front of Seamus. 

"Now get in there," the Irish boy gestured towards a little corner he had covered with curtains. "And try these on."

_It feels good, doesn't it, Harry… Having me inside you… Feel it… Remember it… Ta…_

Harry's hair stood up with fright, and he hastily grabbed the pile of garments that Dean had chosen for him.

"Thanks, Dean, I'll be ready in no time. And Ron, go and see if you can find Colin Creevey, after we're done here."

Harry disappeared behind the curtains, leaving three baffled friends staring at each other in confusion. Ron shook his head, wondering why on earth would Harry voluntarily want to see Colin Creevey. But these thoughts were interrupted, when after a few minutes an annoyed outcry was heard from the corner.

"Dean, this is absolutely too sexy!"

It was Harry, moaning with discomfiture. He was wearing Dean's army tank top, taut copper-brown army trousers and Hawaiian-style cord sandals.

"No it's not," Dean protested. "You look just good."

"He looks like a bloody philanderer," Ron commented.

Harry scowled. "I think I should have a jacket over this top…"

"No," Dean was stern, "Remember who you are going to impress."

Seamus and Ron both snapped into attention. "You know who his boyfriend is? Er, was?" Ron asked, disbelievingly.

"Sure," Dean smirked. "Don't you?"

"No!" Seamus jumped up and went to Dean, "Who the hell is he?"

"Can't tell you. Sorry."

Harry went by the window, chuckling at himself. The situation was very comic, and he wondered silently how it had ever gotten there. How it was possible that all the Slytherins and many of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs knew the name of his lover, and yet nobody had leaked the truth out to all and sundry. Here he was, surrounded by Gryffindors, and only Dean Thomas of all Gryffindor people knew what was going on. 

"It's going to be a hot day," Seamus said, after finishing the playful pummelling of the impious Dean Thomas. "We could go for a swim."

"Yeah, that would be nice," Ron agreed. "I'll just go and tell Hermione, and ask if she wants to join."

"Alright," Harry smiled, "She's in the fifth floor broom shed with Ginny, according to the Marauders."

Ron paled and dashed off, Harry, Seamus and Dean's laughter escorting his way.

"And don't forget to find Colin for me!" Harry shouted after him.

"Come on, let's go without Ron," Dean giggled. "Grab your swimming trunks, boys… We're going to challenge the Squid itself!"

"But I just got these fancy clothes on," Harry complained. "Am I going to strip them down immediately?"

"Seeing as we have a very interesting audience at the beach…" Dean whispered, "… I wouldn't say it was for the worst."

Harry glanced out of the window and sharpened his gaze towards the lake. A frost-white hair glimmered in the sunshine far below him.

"Let's hurry!"

Draco and Montague were both excellent fencers. Their match was beautiful to look at –they were like two dancing drows from the world of the foulest but fairest dark elves, but so innocent and free of violence that it would have certainly made Voldemort vomit. Even Pansy succeeded to calm herself down, when seeing that her friends were not actually trying to hurt each other. And what that sight was doing to Harry –there was no question in his pants.

"Don't look that way," Dean poked him in the ribs. "Don't be so obvious."

Seamus had already run to the beach, now paddling in the shallow water. "Come on, guys! The last in the water is Filch's cat!"

Harry and Dean continued their way, Harry shuddering inwardly every time he heard the sabre and the sword clash together. He had great difficulties not to watch the scene. Only the one short moment he had seen Draco's swirling movements had left him hot and bothered. And also very pissed, because he couldn't' get a relief later on.

"Strip," Dean commanded. "He has his face towards us now."

Seamus was splashing water all over them. "Hurry up!"

Harry grinned, and slowly began to draw the tank top over his head. And indeed, when he had it almost off, he heard a cry of pain from the other side of the beach.

"Bloody hell, Draco, you nearly cut my arm off!"

Obviously it was Montague, who had been the victim of Draco's distracted attention. Harry grinned, hoping Rodriquez was fine, and began to open his trousers, making it painfully slowly.

Dean grinned at him. "It is working. He stares at you like there was no other in the world. Want to make him a bit jealous?"

Harry chuckled lightly, letting the army canvas slide down his legs, revealing his swimming trunks. "As in, we could pretend having very fun together?"

"Suspiciously fun," Dean laughed, and wriggled his brows.

"But then he thinks I'm a slut," Harry protested, "And won't have me back."

"Damn, Harry, I didn't mean we make out or anything!" Dean hushed, so that Seamus couldn't hear. "It's this way. You act like you're miserable and want to die, and I try to catch your attention. That should make Draco angry with me and compassionate with you."

"Come on already, guys!" Seamus was shouting from the lake.

"We're coming," Dean answered, and narrowed his eyes at Harry, smiling. "Now. Act."

Immediately, Harry turned to look at the fencers, who were no longer fencing. Harry caught Draco's eye for a split second, then hung his head remorsefully and slumped his shoulders. Dean came immediately to him and began to drag him in the water. The scene was perfect to make anybody laugh.

"He's casting daggers at me right now," Dean informed Harry as he pulled the raven-haired boy from the elbow. "And clearly Montague is trying to make him sensible."

Harry smiled at Dean. "You're mean, did you know that?"

"Oh, I'm just me," Dean laughed. "And now, can I ask you to do _me_ a favour?"

"And what is that?"

"Help me to get together with Ron."

"WHAT?"

Dean scowled, and dived. Harry followed his example, and soon they were many meters from the beach, a cooling water surrounding their bodies.

"I want Ron," Dean repeated. Now also Seamus heard the topic.

"WHAT?" the Irish boy spluttered, "This is plain absurdity."

"What's wrong with that arrangement? If Hermione is with Ginny, then Ron should be free soon enough and…"

"You are mad," Seamus huffed. "Ron isn't even gay!"

"He kissed Harry," Dean protested, "He might be bisexual."

Harry had long ago started laughing his ass off. He just couldn't imagine his life going any crazier than what it was right now.

"He's laughing with them," Draco whined. "He's laughing, probably at me, and with that Thomas guy. I hate Thomas!"

"Draco, for Morgan's sake…!" Montague shook the blonde from the shoulders.

"Look at my Harry! He's probably the most gorgeous thing I've seen! Look at the muscles on his back! And did you see his ass? I could kill for that ass."

"You almost did," Montague frowned, pointing out his bleeding arm.

"Oh, um… I apologize. Did I hurt you much?" Draco asked, embarrassed. 

"No, it's just a shallow cut, and that was really Potter's fault, not yours. Nobody ever asked him to strip in public places," Montague consoled.

"Except that Thomas boy," Draco seethed. "Look at him now! He's talking with Harry!"

"Of course he is talking with Harry, they are friends!" Montague sighed.

"He is _flirting _with Harry!" Draco screamed, silently.

Blaise emerged by Draco's side. "Again, this should be _your _revenge day, not _Harry's."_

"Cast him another thought," Pansy grabbed Draco's arm and led him to sit under the oak. "Cast him a very loving thought."

"A loving thought?" Draco mumbled. "A _loving thought?"_

"Yeah, you know, like… something nice, but not including sex," Montague advised.

Draco furrowed his brows and began to fidget with his hands. "Okay…"

_A loving thought… Starry night, empty corridors… The first time I told you that I found you attractive… The scared look in your eyes… You were so beautiful. You are still so very beautiful… Can you see yourself, Harry? Can you see yourself with my eyes, Harry?_

Draco looked at Harry, who was swimming with Dean and Seamus. The moment his thoughts entered Harry's head, the Gryffindor turned around to look at him in the eye, crying.

Draco looked away, satisfied, but also wanting to cry. Blaise wrapped her arms tightly around him, speaking calming words to him, and protected him against the unwanted reactions of weakness. Montague purposefully glared at Harry, and the Gryffindor dived underwater.

"Look, Draco, you've got mail," Pansy noticed. "It's Malum."

Draco sniffled down his tears before they made his eyes red. "Malum?"

The black, shining and enormous eagle found its usual place on Draco's bent knees. 

"It's my father," Draco explained, and detached the letter. "Malum, you'll find some goodies in the open pouch on my bed in the dungeons."

The eagle left, slapping its black soft wings against Draco's face before rising in the air. 

The letter from Lucius Malfoy was short, as always.

_Draco, _

_How is everything going? I hope to hear from you tonight._

_Your mother sends her love, as does your sister._

_Lucius_

_Narcissa_

_H  _A_i l i_ e __

Draco smiled at the uncertain scribbles of his sister. Clearly Hailie, although being just two years old, had received lessons in writing already. Just like he had, at that age.

Reading the letter again, Draco felt a tight knot in his stomach. His father was asking him if Harry was already distracted. And he really didn't know what to say. Of course Harry was distracted, but in what way, that was yet a question that haunted Draco. Was he even more aggressive and powerful than normally, or was he a weak wreck? Certainly he was hotter than ever. Turning over the piece of parchment, Draco wrote the answer to his family.

_Father, Mother, Hailie,_

_Everything is going according to the plan. _

_Draco_

That Saturday was the longest in Harry's memory. And it was also the most depressed one. As if he wouldn't think of Draco twenty-four-seven in the first place, there was the additional and mystical feeling of presence every half an hour, wrapping him into memories of their past. Telling him to remember, to feel, to know… Telling him how it all could be, if not his stupid mistake. Like with magic, Harry was drawn into scenes of utmost pleasure, wild sex, sweet secretive smiles and dreamy touches.

It was now eight in the evening, and Harry had not eaten anything. He had not seen Draco after the swimming tour in the morning, and it made him very, very frustrated. Thus, he was angry, hungry and very flammable, and his mind was working overtime to come up with some seductive prank to Draco.  

_Feel the kiss… My tongue entwining with yours… See us together… _A flash of Draco kissing him went across his vision.

"That's it!" he yelled. "I've had enough!"

Hermione and Ginny, who had been sitting with him in the common room, jumped slightly from their seats. 

"Mione, where's Ron?"

"Eh…" Hermione blushed. "I really don't know. He… He and I… We're not together anymore."

"Oh, I know," Harry nonchalantly waved his hand, "But I still can ask, now can't I?"

"Well, he went to look for Colin Creevey," Ginny answered, smoothing Hermione's hand. "He said you asked him to."

"Yes, I did," Harry admitted. "And I'm glad he remembered."

Right then, both Colin and Ron came through the Fat Lady's portrait, and Harry excused himself. For the first time in his life, he was eager to see Colin.

"Gosh, Harry!" Colin exclaimed, enthusiastically, when Harry approached. "I am so flattered!"

Ron rolled his eyes, and Harry guffawed. "Yeah, whatever."

"Ron said you need me to do you a favour," Colin continued, "And I assure you, I'm most willing to help! Wait until Dennis hears about this, he won't believe his ears…"

"Colin, where do you develop your photographs? The moving ones?" Harry asked, impatiently.

"In the dungeons, there's this one room where Snape never goes, McGonagall gave the key to me, she thinks I'm a good photographer, you know, and I think she's real nice. I…"

"Can you copy a picture that has already been taken? A moving picture?"

"Sure I can! I'm an expert for a reason, you know! It's actually quite easy. You just need to…"

"Ron, excuse us, please," Harry said, rather bluntly. 

Ron's expression went first angry and then confusedly sad, and he went away, hanging his head. 

"He's taking his break-up with Hermione rather harshly," Colin told.

"Yeah," Harry said, but not interested enough to care about that right now. "Let's go to that dungeon room, shall we? I have this one picture I need to copy for someone…"

Dungeons. Slytherins. Fading hangovers. A pile of teenage magazines and trash magazines such as Witch Weekly and The Quibbler, and several cans of hot chocolate. Draco frowned, and tossed aside the glossy magazine 'Transguration Today' that Pansy had made him read.

"This pretending is very tiresome. I'd rather have a good fuck right now."

"No! You're _not_ going to forgive him so easily," Blaise's features melted into a frown. "He hurt you, and he must pay."

"I'm touched of your worry for me, Bini, but don't you think this is a bit childish?" Draco smiled. "I mean, I already have forgiven him. So why can't I let him know?"

"Because," said Pansy.

"Because what?" Draco asked.

"Just because," Pansy turned a page of her magazine.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Honestly, girls…"

"Just allow him to fix his relationships with the Mud-blood and the Weasel before you make your next move," advised Montague. "I heard they have split."

"I don't care if he hates his friends, as long as he loves me," Draco pouted.

"But he won't be happy without the support of his friends, Draco," Montague continued.

"His friends would never support us, Rod. Not when it's me in question."

Rodriquez Montague bit his lip in contemplation. "Yes… You might be right."

"Besides, I don't want to waste any energy to those dimwits. I have much more to worry about at home. Like my father, and the Dark Lord. How the fuck am I going to handle them? Do you think I should betray Harry to them?"

"Of course not," Blaise huffed, "That madman's not worthy of either of you."

Draco quirked his brow, "What do you mean?"

Blaise poked Pansy in the ribs, and the blonde girl put her magazine away. Then she gestured Millicent, Mary-Ann and Tracey come closer, as well.

"We girls have been thinking," Blaise smirked, "That maybe you should not become a Death Eater after all, Draco."

Draco stared his friends in shock. "What the fuck?"

"The Dark Lord is just a joke," Tracey said, "Everybody knows that Potter's going to beat him one day. Nobody actually believes in Voldemort's victory, not even in the Slytherin house."

"Your father does," Draco pointed out.

"But my father's an old senile idiot," Tracey grinned. "He's blind. He can't see how useless it is to support a seventy-five years old, cracked imbecile."

"Yes," Mary-Ann put in, "Besides, we youngsters have been able to see Potter's development year after year, whereas our parents don't even believe in his skills to cast a Patronus. _We know he's powerful, even though our parents do not."_

"Actually, my mom told me Bellatrix thinks Potter survived from the Ministry incident with a mere luck and the fact that Dumbledore interfered. Bella just won't accept that Harry is actually clever."

Draco didn't know what to say.

"You're so cute when you're baffled, Draco," Millicent laughed.

Draco snapped out of his daze. "I am _not cute!"_

"Are too! You're the cutest and sexiest guy in the world!" Blaise giggled.

"Well," Draco smiled slyly, "Why can't I just go then, and use my charms on my boyfriend?"

"Because!" Pansy yelled. "And we haven't finished yet."

"We haven't?" Draco looked pleadingly at the ceiling.

Montague kicked his armchair. "You don't fool us, Draco. We know you're interested in what we have to say."

"You too, Rodriquez?" Draco faked despair. "Seriously, what has gotten into you all?"

"Let's just say this. When we saw the chemistry between you and Harry, we decided to help your relationship the best we can. Obviously, you and Harry are both very promising young wizards, with your personal and magical influences. You are both going to be something great one day. Not like our parents, who follow someone's lead like obedient puppets –but you and Harry are going to be the very leaders, and others will follow you. And that will be not out of fear –that will be out of respect and love."

Draco blinked. "Wow, Montague. That was something. I never knew you were a poet."

"I'm not a poet –I'm just voicing what we all think is true."

Blaise nestled in Draco's lap, however careful not to crumple his trousers and shirt. "So what do you think? Want a plan to destroy the Dark Lord and take his place with Harry, baby?"

Draco couldn't but laugh. "Yeah, why not… But I tell you, my father's gonna be really angry."

Pansy giggled. "But he doesn't have to know, now does he?"

"Not yet anyway," grinned Draco. _Oh, what the hell. This might be fun. "But, I must tease Potter a bit more, first."_

Everybody grinned, except Montague glared. "I know," he said, "I guess it's inevitable. He needs to suffer a bit. Damn we're in Slytherin, would be so much easier to forgive if we were Hufflepuffs."

"Don't even go there!" Draco gasped. "_Hufflepuffs?"_

Suddenly, there was a loud crash that came from the direction of the sixth year boys' dormitory.

"Hey, what was that?" Goyle gulped.

"It was just Nocens," Draco drawled. "He probably brought a message back from my father already."

Draco lazily made his way to his bedroom. But when he opened the door and looked over at his bed, there was no grey eagle sitting there. Instead, there was the most beautiful snowy owl Draco had ever seen.

"Hedwig, you sufferable, jealous bitch."

The owl hooted in a snorting way, and proudly raised its leg, where a large envelope was attached.

"What is this?" Draco asked, and smoothed Hedwig's feathers, despite the glares of the bird. "Is it from Harry?"

Carefully, Draco opened the cover and pulled out a photograph. A moving photograph.

"Oh, shit…"

A message was written behind it.

_This is what you get when you play with me._

_Either this little piece of paper –or the real thing, depending on how you play._

_Harry_

A/N: I will yield to your requests. The next chapter shall contain something like make-up sex. *mad grin*


	24. Humbled In Your Grace

A/N: Thank you **LadyVader** for correcting some embarrassing grammar mistakes in this chapter.

**24. Humbled In Your Grace**

Draco couldn't understand how the only little window in his dormitory could suck in so much light that it hurt his eyes. But then again, he had been sleeping very badly, and –heaven forbid! –even crying a little. And now, when it was eight thirty on Sunday morning, he was sitting cross-legged on his bed, doing the same thing than just three hours ago –staring at the picture Harry had sent him. 

The picture was not new. He had seen it before –it was the one taken on Halloween. The one where Harry was kissing him for the first time. 

In all its simplicity, it was a horrible reminder.

"The games we play…" he muttered, turning the picture over and reading Harry's message again. "Yes… I must admit I'd prefer the real thing, although this _is_ a lovely picture… You know me too well, damn it, Potter!"

Draco smoothed the picture-Harry's cheek with his thumb, and smiled.

"I don't know what the hell is drawing me to you, but I guess it has something to do with your personality. You don't fear me, you don't respect me, you don't share my views, you have no reason to trust me and you don't fucking even like everything about me –and yet you say you love me. Damn you're off your rocker. Hmmm… But I guess that's exactly what I like about you. The insanity in you."

Draco grinned, and gave the picture-Harry a fond kiss.

He could have sworn that the picture-Draco looked murderously at him, afterwards.

**

Harry was very nervous. He'd had nightmares the whole night, such as Draco ripping his heart out, then throwing it back to his face and telling him he didn't want it anymore. The echo of 'I don't want it' was still running through his head. There were nasty blue marks under Harry's eyes, thanks to too little food and bad sleep, and his whole appearance was getting very dishevelled, since he didn't want to get up from the bed and take a good shower.

The things were not getting any better when seeing his friend Ronald Weasley sitting by the window, now for the third hour in a row. The red hair was greasy, the freckles emphasized from crying, and his clothes were the same he had been wearing the day before. Harry doubted Ron had bothered to change into pajamas at all for the night.

Guilet started building up in the large Gryffindor heart of Harry. He looked at his friend's miserable and fucked-up form, knowing he looked exactly the same himself, and wondered what had ever gone wrong during these last weeks of uproar.

"Ron," Harry said, silently. "Come and sit here, on my bed. I want to tell you something."

Ron shrugged, but didn't move from his spot. "I'm too tired to move."

"I'm really sorry for you and Hermione," Harry sighed. "I mean… Now that I know what breaking up with someone feels like, I should have been more considerate towards you yesterday. But I was a totally selfish bastard, thinking only of my own bleeding heart. I am really sorry."

Ron turned his head, and gave Harry a faint smile. "I'm sorry too. Guess the things aren't working that well for either of us, eh?"

"Guess so," Harry smiled back, resting his head deeper into the pillow.

"So… How are you feeling now? Angry? Sad?" Ron asked.

"No… I'd say I'm feeling rather… impatient."

"Impatient for what?"

"I am waiting for his next move," Harry explained. "But let's not talk about him. I want to know what went wrong with you and Mione. If that's not something you'd rather be silent about."

"No, it's okay… I think," Ron inhaled, sorrowfully. "It's just that I don't know whether to be angry or sad or both. You know, you can't actually hate your own sister, even though she was the one who stole away your girl."

"Must be very confusing, huh?" Harry shook his head. "This whole year has been very crazy."

"Tell me about it," Ron muttered.

"So… Do you think you're over Hermione enough to start dating someone else?" Harry inquired, looking a bit hesitant.

"As if there was someone else," Ron laughed, mockingly.

"There is… but he is a guy," Harry said, tentatively. "Not me, though, but someone you know nearly as well."

"A guy?" Ron gaped. "A guy interested in me? You're not being serious."

"Oh, but I am," Harry chuckled. "There's just that we don't know if you're completely straight, or rather bisexual."

"Harry, what an awful topic to talk about this early in the morning," Ron cried. "Thank your lucky stars that Dean and Seamus are already up in the common room –doing God knows what; it's not bloody six yet."

"But I'm still here," peeped Neville from behind his bed-hangings. "So could you please talk a bit more silently? I'm still trying to sleep."

"Sorry Nev," Harry smiled, "I promise we'll not disturb you anymore."

With these words, Harry cast a Silencing Charm around him and Ron. Ron crawled by Harry's bed, kneeling on the floor, and resting his elbows at Harry's mattress.

"So, who is it?"

"I'm not telling, remember," Harry scowled.

"No, I mean, who is it that is interested in _me_," Ron corrected.

Harry actually smirked. "If I tell you, you have to promise me to go at least on one date with him."

"What? No way!" Ron pulled a face.

"Ron, twenty-four hours isn't yet over. You still must obey my every wish, remember? And I order you –when I tell you his name, you will go on a date with him. Just a date, Ron. I'm not asking you to jump between his sheets right away."

"But I'm not even gay!"

"Sure you're not," Harry said, eyes twinkling. "But there's nothing wrong in experimenting, now is there?"

"So who is he? Tell me he isn't Crabbe or Goyle! Or either of the Creeveys!"

"It's actually Dean," Harry grinned.

"Dean?" Ron gasped. "Our Dean?"

"Why are you so surprised?" Harry raised his brows. "He told you he was gay yesterday, at breakfast."

"But I thought he also said he wanted to shag Malfoy," Ron pointed out, looking halfway disgusted.

"What's wrong in fantasizing about Malfoy?" Harry felt a stab of anger go through his chest. "You cannot possibly say he isn't gorgeous. Evil, yes –but also gorgeous."

"Um… er… Well… I guess he's a bit too blonde to my taste, but otherwise… He's the most popular bloke among the girls in this school, so how could I actually disagree."

"Good. Now let's get back to the main topic… Dean Thomas."

**

It was ten to eleven that Sunday when Draco decided to leave his dormitory room and enter the common Slytherin area. So much had been going on in his mind that he actually longed for some distracting company now.

"Morning, Draco," Blaise said softly, when seeing Draco dragging himself towards the leather couches in front of the fire. "How was your night?"

"Terrible," Draco grunted. 

"You look terrible," Warrington pointed out, "That is, compared to your usual self."

"Thanks a lot," another dull grunt came from the blonde's direction.

"There's a note on the billboard from Snape. Well, there's the original note from Dumbledore, and then an additional one from Snape," Pansy said. "We're having a picnic today."

"Picnic?" Draco pulled a revolted face. "_Picnic! _Whose sick idea is that?"

"Here, read the notes," Warrington went to rip them off the board and tossed them in Draco's lap. "That one written in red ink is from the Headmaster, and the other, with lots of swearwords I might add, is from Severus."

"…hereby invite every student of this school… blah…blah… a picnic by the eastern lakeside at three o'clock p.m. … blah… house-elves will provide the food… gathering in groups in accordance with classes…" Draco read. "This is ridiculous."

"Read what Snape says," Montague laughed.

"...the one sodding soul, who emerges at the beach wearing a sun cap or a bonnet, let alone a frilly sunshade, gets two weeks detention…" Draco laughed, "...It is bloody November, and even if it was not, the picnics should be denied by wizarding law... this bloody school is rotting in its place, a _picnic_, bloody hell... This freak show known as the staff of this school, excluding me of course, should have their brains inspected..."

"Snape didn't warm up to the idea," Pansy grinned sweetly.

"Guess not," Draco smiled at her. "Is this damned gathering obligatory?"

"Spect it is," Pansy shrugged, "Dumbledore's 'wishes' are often indirect commands."

"Hrmph," Draco grunted, and conjured himself a cup of tea. "Wonder what's behind this stupid idea? Is Dumbledore trying to cheer us up or something?"

"Guess he's worried about the Dark Lord's actions," Montague muttered. "My father just wrote me. There's been some growth in the ranks of the dark army. And some movement, too. I hear that some Dementors have left the Cuillin ridge yesterday night."

"They have?" Warrington raised a brow. "I thought it wasn't going to happen until Wednesday."

"Well, something made Mr. Lucius Malfoy change the plan," Montague explained. "But let's not worry about it. It's not like they'd come and suck out _our_ souls. I think that the _picnic _is more worth worrying about right now."

**

Harry was reading the announcement on the Gryffindor common room billboard. It said there would be a picnic at three o'clock p.m. today. Sharpening his eyes suspiciously, he wondered out loud what could be the reason behind the event.

"Why it is that everybody hesitates to follow Dumbledore's whims nowadays?" asked Hermione behind them. "It's not like his ideas seemed that terrible, before."

"Yes, but you haven't heard what Remus wrote to Harry yesterday," Ron pointed out, looking superior. The redhead hadn't really gotten over with his break-up with Hermione, yet, and tried to act as cool as possible. "The Dark Lord's troops are getting impatient. I think this is just a plan to keep us students cheerful, although the danger is coming."

"What a bunch of bullshit," Ginny snapped. "Hermione's right –what's wrong with an innocent picnic? I get the chance to use my new yellow bonnet and the maroon autumn gown."

Ron glared at his little sister, who had stolen his girlfriend. But, he had no courage to say anything insulting back, even though his mind was whirling. 

"Let's go," Dean muttered, "The girls obviously find this picnic very cool, or something. Did you hear how Lavender reacted?"

"Thank Caramon, no, I did not!" Ron sighed, smiling. Then he flushed, realizing to whom he was speaking to. Was his roommate really interested in him?

"You're absolutely right, guys," Harry said. "We might as well spend these remaining three hours doing something else than listening to some enthusiastic blabber about new winter robes and silk scarfs…"

"Hey!" Ginny slapped Harry gently in the head. "Watch your mouth, Harry, or I might make _you_ wear one of my dresses."

"He'd like that," Dean giggled. "And I bet his boyfriend would be wordless with lust, too!"

Harry looked pale with horror. "Don't even go there. He'd kill me if I'd embarrass myself like that!"

"So who is he?" Ginny asked, about the thousandth time.

"Who _was _he," Ron corrected, looking slightly beaten. "Don't forget I spoiled it all."

Ginny flushed, but still gazed inquiringly at Harry. 

"I'm not saying," Harry spread his hands in frustration. "Not until I get him back, okay?"

"You promise to tell us when you get him back?" Hermione looked stern. "You know, I'm a bit worried about this all. Obviously he's not doing you good. You've become rather a rascal after you met him."

"Rascal?" Harry asked, quirked his brows. "What do you mean, rascal? I've always been rather wild, how can you say that…?"

"You've become more like… well… more _dark_," Hermione explained. "More like an _evil_ rascal."

"So he _is_ someone from Slytherin!" Ron's face lightened up. "Let me see… Crabbe… Goyle…"

"Oh, Merlin, Ron!" Ginny shouted, "Shut up! As if Harry would look at any of _them_!"

"I think I could play a good match of chess. You up to it, Ron?" Dean suggested the Weasley boy, and began to lead him away. "Those girls are in a rather aggressive mood today, wouldn't mind keeping the distance…"

Harry smiled thankfully at Dean. Then he found himself ambushed by both Ginny and Hermione, and began to fidget the collar of his black shirt nervously. "Er, girls…?"

"So, it _is _someone from Slytherin, isn't it?" Hermione smirked. "I know it! It's the way how you looked when Ron started to mention those names!"

"Um…"

"But it can't be Crabbe or Goyle," Hermione continued, and Ginny nodded in agreement, looking thoughtful. "So it must be someone we don't know so well, like… Like Montague! He's quite a hottie! And I hear he's gay, too."

"But he's with Etre," Harry protested, and then slammed a hand across his mouth. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

It was namely a secret from the Original Sin, and the rules were quite clear. Nobody talked about those happenings, not later, not ever.

"Hmm, is he really?" Ginny looked devilish. She and Hermione sent sparkles at one another, and then turned to harass Harry in unison.

"Warrington? Bole? Baddock? Nott?" the girls were giggling. "SNAPE?"

"Oh, gods, NO!" Harry looked revolted. "You are going to stop this RIGHT NOW, or I'm going to vomit all over you."

Hermione and Ginny collapsed in fits of laughter in each other's arms.

"Have a good day, you too," Harry cried out, half amused, half annoyed, and stalked off towards his dormitory room.

**

Cool breeze was waving the beautiful, silvery locks of Draco Malfoy, as he proceeded with his classmates towards the beach. He smirked, noticing Ginny Weasley struggle with a wide bonnet that the wind was trying to steal. He smirked even more, noticing how uncomfortable both Hermione Granger and Parvati Patil were with their billowing autumn dresses, the hems tangling with their feet in the middle of the harsh blows. Ronald Weasley was sitting on a large patchwork quilt next to Dean Thomas, who was offering the redhead some butterbeer, trying to make him smile. Seamus and Lavender were talking together at the waterline, Lavender taking some dancing steps like mimicking some bloody fairy. Neville Longbottom was trying his best not to steal the strawberries from the top of the pie that lay dangerously close to him. 

Draco frowned at the sight, thinking it disgustingly sweet and normal. That is, until he saw Harry Potter stroll towards the Gryffindor crowd from the direction of the lake, his jeans halfway wet with wading in the low water. The breath caught in Draco's throat.

"What is it with Harry and wet clothes," Blaise sniggered, noticing Draco's expression and Harry's condition. "He has you around his little finger, Draco. He knows exactly what to do to make you look like that –do close your mouth, baby, it doesn't become you open."

"What's he doing in the water, anyway?" Pansy asked, nudging Draco's mandible upwards, helping the blonde boy close his mouth. "Looks like he's carrying something."

The Slytherins watched as Harry made his way back to the patchwork quilt, kneeling next to Dean, and dropping some beautiful ink-black and snow-white pebbles before him.

"Nah, it's just Ronald Weasley who wants to play chess, even outside, on a day like this," Tracey huffed. "That bloody Weasel is a mess, honestly. _Chess, _for crying out loud!"

Pansy and Blaise laughed, and Draco pulled out a cigarette box from his robes. "Want some?"

The girls accepted, and soon the four of them were enjoying cherry-flavoured weeds. Draco blew a ringlet of silver smoke in the air, and returned his gaze on Harry. The green eyes were staring right back at him, and he smirked. Harry smirked back, a very evil glint in his eyes.

"Damn he's unbelievable," Draco muttered, lips curling into a lopsided smile.

Blaise wrapped arms around Draco's waist, careful not to burn his sleeve with the cigarette. "Draco. Don't. Do. Anything. Stupid."

"Stupid? _Me_?" Draco raised brows and laughed. "I don't think so."

"You need to be _cold _towards him," reminded Tracey, "Ignorant and cold."

"I _am _cold towards him."

"Ha! As if!" Pansy rolled her eyes. "The only thing cold here is the weather."

"So," Blaise smiled, and took Draco's arm, pulling him forwards. "Let's join Crabbe and Goyle and get some butterbeer from their basket, before there's nothing left of it."

Draco grinned, following his best friend. "You know, Bini, I think this picnic isn't such a bad idea after all. It's a rather enjoyable view, from our spot there."

"Yeah, right at Potter and his buddies," giggled Mary-Ann. She had just emerged from somewhere in the direction of the seventh year Slytherins, and hooked Draco's other arm with her own.

"Watch my cigarette," Draco smiled. 

"Montague sends a word," Mary-Ann smirked. "You're free to advance him after this squalid outing event. We think it's been long enough."

"Thank Merlin!" Draco rolled his eyes. "I thought you might get sadistic and all that, like usually..."

"Hey!" Mary-Ann poked him in the abs, pouting playfully.

Draco and the girls seated themselves on the green, silken Slytherin quilt. It was large enough for at least twenty people, but they were just the nine of them, the sixth years. Crabbe and Goyle, admittedly, booked one third of the bedding, but it was still comfortable enough for Draco to get his personal space secured, and some butterbeer bottles opened nearby. Mary-Ann opened the cork from a little dragon blood vial she'd gotten from Montague, and slipped some red liquid in their bottles. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the grass was green, the wind was cooling and the view of Harry's arse was magnificent –in short, the life was beaming for Draco. 

"So," started Blaise, fixing her eyes keenly on Draco. "Now that we're all gathered here like this, maybe we should think of a plan how you could avoid betraying Harry to Voldie."

"Hmmhh..." Draco mumbled, and extinguished his cigarette in the smooth sand. "Maybe."

"Well good, because Gregory and I have got a plan," interrupted Vincent Crabbe. "We have been thinking about that... that... what was it, Greg?"

"Um... The... The B-banishing Charm?"

"Yes, that," Vincent smiled, goofily. "The Banishing Charm. The one you explained to us in the library, Draco!"

Draco flushed, one certain blow-job vividly emblazoned in his mind's eye. Yet, he was impressed that his sidekicks were capable of any thinking at all. "What about it, then?"

"Well, we could, ah, well... You said it was powerful enough to send a person to another place," Gregory said.

"Yeah, like... like Africa," Vincent chorused. "Think how cool it would be to send the Dark Lord to Africa, away from our lives."

Pansy burst out in wild giggles, followed closely by Blaise, Theodore, Tracey, Millicent and Mary-Ann. 

"Africa! Oh... Dear, dear Vincent, but what if Voldie takes a plane and comes back to England? Then what?" Pansy choked amidst her mirth.

"Voldie, taking a plane?" now it was Draco's turn to break into laughter. "That Muggle flying machine?"

"Oh, uh, my tummy hurts..." Mary-Ann howled with hilarity. "Imagine that scene, guys! Voldie taking a plane, coming all tanned back from Africa, wearing, heaven forbid, a loin cloth!"

Everybody laughed at the expense of the Dark Lord, who was still in the pathetic belief of being their leader. And, amidst his chuckles, Draco noticed a very aggravated pair of green eyes, staring jealously at his direction. _Good, I'm making Potter envious only by laughing with my friends... Oh, this is priceless..._

"Actually, the Banishing Charm isn't such a bad idea," Draco forced himself to not laugh. "If only we could send the Dark Lord straight to _hell_. From there, he couldn't catch a plane and come back."

Gradually, his words absorbed into the giggling group, and the overly joyous atmosphere turned severe. Blaise's eyes went wide, and Pansy looked serious. Goyle and Crabbe were looking smug, and Tracey needed a long swig from her spiked butterbeer bottle.

"To hell?" Millicent asked. "That's a brilliant plan, Sir Draque."

Draco shrugged. "Of course it's a brilliant plan."

Crabbe and Goyle looked even smugger, if possible. It was, after all, the first time they'd come up with something reasonable.

"And how, exactly, are we going to cast a Banishing Charm on our dear old overly-powerful Voldie?" Pansy asked hesitantly.

Everybody was silent for a while, thinking hard. Yet, nobody said anything, even after three minutes of complete silence. The plan, after all, seemed impossible.

"Why, where does this desolate atmosphere come from?" asked a sour voice above their heads. It was Professor Snape, a sneer plastered over his features, as usual. "I take it isn't _possibly_ because of this _lovely_ picnic we're having here?"

"Sir?" Mary-Ann asked. "We were just thinking... How do you cast a Banishing Charm on a person?"

Snape looked surprised. "I am sure Mr. Malfoy can answer that."

"Of course I know how it's done technically," Draco drawled. "But we were merely thinking of how to fool the victim so that they would fall into the trap."

"And who, if I may ask, this mysterious person might be?" Snape inquired. "Potter, I do hope? Or better yet, that Weasley boy?"

"Um, actually, we'd rather not tell you, sir," Blaise muttered, batting her lashes apologetically, which she knew Snape always bought. "But imagine if it was someone like... like... well... Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore? You plan to hex _Dumbledore_?" Snape let out a dry laugh.

"No," Draco looked bored. "But someone who might be as powerful as he is."

"Well," Snape pushed a hand through his greasy locks, looking bored, too. "I think the best way to cast a Banishing Spell at someone is either make the person step into the runic circle, or throw the runic portkey item at them, so that they catch it by a reflex."

"Of course," Pansy suddenly got a bright light in her eyes. "The Malfoy sword!"

"What about my _sabre_, Pansy?" Draco narrowed his eyes.

"We could attach the Banishing Charm on the _sabre_, and you could give it to... erm, _him_," she caught herself just in time. It wouldn't do to tell Snape whom they were going to banish. After all, they did not know that Professor Severus Snape was a member of the Order.

"I'll just leave you children to your own musings," Snape huffed. "I'd rather have a word with those bloody first years than find out what's boiling in those scheming, wicked brains of yours."

"Good day, sir," Millicent called after the billowing, black robes.

"Hmm," Draco leaned backwards, supporting himself on the elbows. "Spect the biggest problem here after all is how to find the runic address to hell."

**

Harry Potter was not happy. His day had begun with wretched anticipation, and it certainly seemed to continue the same way. No matter how cheerful he tried to be among his Gryffindor friends, he did nothing but scream inside. Draco Malfoy was laughing and having fun with his classmates, obviously having all forgotten about Harry. The anger and the despair tried to find their way to the surface again, but wisely, Harry kept them in check. He would not break down now. He would _not_ be weak! And he certainly would not go begging Draco to take him back. Not anymore.

He drew knees closer to his chest, idly playing with the soaking wet trouser legs with his left hand. He was rather cold. He was barefoot, and some itchy sand had attached to his moist skin between his toes after he'd come back from the lake. Looking frustrated, but too lazy to scratch it off, he directed his eyes at Ron and Dean, who were playing chess with the tiny pebbles he had brought. Clearly, Ron was feeling a bit confused and uncomfortable, but was making a good effort to gather courage for a possible date later that day. Dean was just animated, not concentrating on the chess game the least, but rather on Ron's body language. Dean gave Harry a bright smile, and mouthed a silent 'thank you'. Harry forced himself to grin, and then turned away. Sighing, he settled himself down on his stomach, and rested his head on the soft blanket beneath him. He didn't want to see Draco anymore. It only hurt him, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

**

Harry didn't know how much time he had spent slumbering under the misty sun, but suddenly he felt an icy breeze that seeped straight through his bones. He opened his drowsy eyes, blinked a few times to get a focus, and found out that the sun was no longer shining. Cold, coal-black darkness surrounded him and his friends from every direction, and some distant screams of younger students intruded into his understanding.

"Dementors! Dementors!" The wind carried the words from somewhere.

"Dementors?" Harry asked out loud, nudging himself up to his feet. "Mione, Ron, where are you?" he asked, still half sleepily.

"We're right here, Harry," Hermione said, reaching out a hand to touch Harry's shoulder. Her voice was a bit uncertain.

"I bet Dumbledore didn't actually plan this as a part of our amusement," Harry muttered, fumbling for his wand. "Where's my wand?"

"You don't have your wand with you?" Ron panicked. "Harry, how could you leave it?"

Some more distant screams echoed from where the Ravenclaws had been situated, and many students were already passing them by, running back towards the castle.

"Well I didn't leave it on purpose, Ron," Harry said, dismayed. "But what's the big deal, anyway? You all know how to cast a Patronus, don't you?"

"Er..." Ron looked a bit uncertain.

"Here they come!" Seamus shouted, and shuddered. "Wands ready!"

At the same moment Harry got the Dementors in his sight, the familiar pang of hurt and nausea hit him. His head felt like exploding, and the echoes of his mother's screams filled every ounce of his brain. 

Harry cursed for not having his wand. True, he was able to perform some wandless magic, but nothing as big as the _Patronus_. Besides, Dumbledore had given him strict orders not to use his abilities in public. Harry growled and looked pleadingly at Hermione. 

"_Expecto__ Patronum_!" the girl shouted. A tiny, bouncing silvery otter erupted from her wand. It danced around the Gryffindor group, and tried to scare the advancing black hooded creatures away.

"It's not helping!" Lavender screamed. "I'm out of here!"

Harry, through his pain, vaguely noticed how more and more students were leaving the beach –Lavender, Parvati and Seamus from his own group, and nearly every other Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, excluding Zacharias Smith and Ernie McMillan, who tried to cast their respective Patronus Charms on the black creatures. Yet, no-one of the sixth or seventh year Slytherins had moved from their spots. Crabbe was even eating a sandwich, and Draco was idly lighting up a cigarette.

"So _this_ was your revenge, Draco!" Harry breathed, and tears began to fall from his eyes. "You betrayed me after all."

"_Expecto__ Patronum! Expecto Patronum_!" shouted Ron, trying to make his spell work, however in vain.

"Ron, don't panic," Hermione sobbed. "You can't cast the spell if you can't concentrate!"

"Aaah, here they are!" screamed Ginny, and dashed off, as fast as she could.

Harry dropped on his knees, and huddled into a tight ball. A total misery filled his soul: there was no hope left, not one positive memory, not one happy thought. The voices became distant in his ears, all except the heart-breaking one of Lily Potter's. Distantly he noticed how Ron and Hermione clustered protectively around him, but when the coldness finally seeped through every single fibre of his body, he felt their presence fading. Slowly opening his eyes, he no more saw his two best friends –if not their retreating backs.

Harry squirmed in the ground, holding his head and shedding silent tears. So this is how it all was going to end? How pathetic. The Wonder Boy of the Wizarding World would turn into a soulless zombie in the grounds of Hogwarts School, because of one little kiss from a Dementor. 

_Kiss from a Dementor... Dementor's Kiss... Draco... Draco... Please, don't let me die, Draco..._

**

Draco watched the horrible scenario in awe and disgust, blowing some white ringlets of smoke in the darkened air. He looked at Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, both clumped under a tree, stiff and white as chalk statues. It really surprised the Slytherin how neither of the two tried to defend their best friend until the very end –especially when the whole future of the wizarding world lay within this boy. Some Gryffindors!

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" he muttered, and stood up. Batting some non-existent dust away from his robes, he then steered his steps towards Harry and the Dementors.

"Be careful, baby!" Blaise yelled after him.

Draco ignored her. Anger and worry were blurring his brain, and the only thing he could see was Harry lying on the ground, all alone, abandoned by all his friends. If his respect towards Harry's house had been lingering between weak and non-existent before, it was now below zero. 

Speeding up his steps, Draco strode straight in front of the Dementors and punched the closest one in the face. The surprised Dementor withdrew, hissing cruelly, and the other five came closer. Draco raised them a brow, as if asking if they were seriously trying to get past him. 

"What? Come on! What are you waiting for?" he mocked. He was glad that the Dementors did not affect him the way they affected Harry. But, then again, he was under Voldemort's protection.

Draco challenged the creatures with his ice-grey eyes. There was some loud sizzling under the black hoods.

"Come on! Show me your ugly faces so that I can see what kind of mongrels I am trying to beat the shit out of."

"Draco..."

Draco felt Harry's hand clutching his calf. 

"Draco, please... _Patronus__..._ Use the _Patronus_ _Ch-charm_..." 

"Aw, but I was just going to practise my Dux Ryu Ninjitsu skills," Draco smirked, and faced the black-hooded creatures again. 

Harry tightened his grip of Draco's leg. "It's hurting... too much... Please!"

"Hmph," Draco frowned. "Be careful what you wish for."

"Please, Draco..."

"Hmph. Fine. But don't blame me for the consequences then."

Gracefully taking his wand from the loop of his belt, Draco cast the incantation in the air. 

"_Expecto__ Patronus Infusco Praevalens!" _

Immediately, a very powerful magic started to stir in the air. Something huge and diamond-white began to emerge from the tip of Draco's wand, and a little earthquake-like stutter ravished the whole beach. The brilliant frost that now encircled both Draco and Harry, began to form into a gigantic, three-headed wraithlike snake.

Draco Malfoy's Patronus was an enormous Runespoor. It grew until it was at least nine feet long. It was very angry-looking, like its master, and it swayed like a cobra in front of the Dementors. The left head hissed something poisonous to the right head, and the right head revealed long, venomous fangs.

"Hello, Devilita," Draco sighed, affectionately. "Do your job, honey."

The middle head of Devilita sizzled silently, closing her eyes, as if concentrating. And indeed, not many seconds later, all of the three reptile heads turned like a group of well-trained soldiers towards the attackers. The Runespoor sank all her six ghostly fangs through the Dementors' forms several times, and the result was as expected: the Dementors escaped. Their black robes so far as billowed as they went, which in itself was previously unseen.

Draco smirked, and then turned to look at Harry, who was writhing on the ground, fingers clutching the canvas of his trousers. "You okay?"

Harry cried silently, tears flooding down his ashen cheeks. Draco frowned, feeling uncomfortable, and knelt beside him.

"Harry?"

Harry sobbed, and sniffled, and then ventured a shy glance at Draco. The silvery Runespoor Patronus burst into little white stars behind the Slytherin's back, lightening up the dark sky, and dissipated.

"Thank you," Harry whispered, so quietly that Draco nearly missed it.

"You're welcome," Draco replied, looking a little uncertain.

Harry broke into a teary smile, and threw himself against the blond with all the force that was left in him. He wrapped his arms around Draco's neck like a medusa would wrap the tentacles around its prey, and batted his wet lashes against Draco's neck. 

"Um, Potter?"

But before Draco could continue his question, Ron and Hermione turned up. Ron strode straight at Draco, and knocked him harshly away. 

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing Malfoy?" he spat.

Draco narrowed his eyes dangerously and refused to move from Harry's side. "Weasley, I think I am just doing what _you _shouldbe doing."

Ron looked acidic, and went red. "What the fuck are you talking about, Ferret?"

"Do you usually leave your friends in trouble, Weasel? Huh?"

"Bugger off, Malfoy, and leave us alone," Ron managed to choke. He glared at Draco as if wanting nothing more than to punch him. 

Draco returned the glare and looked with disgust and hurt at how Ron cradled Harry in his arms, so that the two Gryffindors were huddled together. Harry didn't seem to protest very much, and Draco felt his heart tear to shreds in his chest. The taste of blood filled his mouth. So, it really was Ron that Harry wanted.

Emotionally drained, Draco took support from the ground and began to stand up. "Fine."

"NO!" Harry suddenly cried, voice broken, and knocked Ron away. "No, don't go, Draco!" 

Harry crawled at Draco's feet and hugged tightly the Slytherin's both thighs. Shuddering, he closed his teary eyes. "Don't go, Draco... I... I can't be without you. I love you." 

Draco's heart jumped with something brutally wonderful that made his breath glitch. Feeling Harry's hands crawling up his leg, the fingers finally twining around his belt and tugging him downwards, wanting him to kneel down again, Draco thought nothing in the world had felt so beautiful before. Harry Potter had just confessed in front of Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger that he loved Draco Malfoy.

Ron was too shocked to speak, so he just looked stupid and blinked his eyes. Hermione felt the need to sit down on the sandy ground, to prevent herself from fainting. Draco gave them both an insolent sneer and bent to gather Harry up from his armpits.

"Come now, Harry, get up," she said gently, so that everybody could hear him. "We must get you a chocolate bar from Crabbe's basket."

Harry cuddled against Draco, his knees still weak, and sobbed. Ron and Hermione were eyeing each other, speechless. 

"S-so it's _you_," Ron finally coughed. "Now I see it. All the secrecy... I should have guessed!"

"Yes, but brains were not something you were blessed with when you were born, Weasley," Draco looked evil. "What surprises me more is that even Granger didn't figure it out."

Ron made a move towards Draco, but Hermione hurried to grab his sleeve.

"We had our own distracting problems, Malfoy," she explained, her usually warm, brown eyes now frosty.

"Yes, so I have heard," Draco smirked.

"The Halloween... A dragon tamer, for fuck's sake... now I get the whole picture," Ron continued his silent wondering, his face in a disgusted grimace.

"Glad you do, Weasley." Draco slid his arm around Harry's hips. 

Ron looked purely murderous. "What have you done to him, Malfoy? Did you cast an Imperius Curse on him? What?"

"I did no such thing," Draco clarified. 

"The hell you didn't!" Ron shouted. "Nobody could date _you!_" 

"And why is that, exactly?" Draco raised a brow. "I am rich, handsome and clever, a really good lover, plus I never bore anybody requesting silly chess games twenty-four-seven."

Ron leapt closer to punch Draco, but when the other Slytherin students gathered behind the insolent Ice Prince and Harry, he no longer dared to do that.

"So sick," was all he said, looking like he'd eaten a rotten lemon. "Harry, how _could_ you?"

Harry turned his teary green eyes at his best friend but said nothing. 

"And obviously every single one of these Slytherin brats _knew_!" Ron fumed, gesturing at Draco's friends. "They all knew. They all have known heaven knows how long a time, but your best friends didn't!" 

"Calm down, Ron," Hermione said, her voice faint. "Let's go back to the castle."

Hermione gave Harry a freezing look, stood up and turned her back at the Slytherin group. Ron followed her, saying nothing more. 

Harry collapsed yet again in frantic sobs against Draco's chest. "They h-hate me! They all hate me..."

Draco silenced Harry with his soft lips.

"Let's take him into the dungeons," Millicent said, sternly. "Blaise, you go and order some hot chocolate from Pomfrey."

"Wait, wait!" came a yell from their side. "Not so fast, I must ask you!"

It was Minerva McGonagall, quickly followed by Dumbledore and Professor Snape.

"What in the name of Alberic Grunnion was that?" McGonagall asked, eyeing Harry and Draco suspiciously. "And why are you two kissing?"

Draco slowly let Harry's lips free and arrogantly turned his head towards the teachers. "Those were Dementors, Professor McGonagall, in case you failed to recognize them. And I am kissing Potter here because I want to."

Dumbledore smiled amusedly. "Indeed."

Snape looked sour, but somehow also contented, snorting disapprovingly only because it was his habit to do so in this kind of situations.

"And what was all that magic?" McGonagall didn't seem to be affected by Draco's rudeness. "It shook the glass jars in Professor Snape's office! Which are, if I may remind you, as deep down as in the _dungeons_!"

"Well obviously, it was my Patronus, Professor," Draco drawled.

"Nobody's Patronus is that strong," McGonagall exhaled in distress. "There was definitely some dark magic combined with it!"

Draco looked like as if he'd want to roll his eyes, "Well, duh, of _course_ there was some dark magic combined! Who do you think I am, for Merlin's sake? Mandy Brocklehurst?"

Snape snorted, and hid a grin behind his palm, faking a cough.

"Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall shrieked. "This is unheard of! You were enhancing your spell with dark magic, in the school grounds no less, in front of everybody! I say you should be expelled!"

"No," Harry cut in, looking furious. "No he shouldn't!"

"Pardon?" McGonagall looked surprised.

"Draco saved my soul, for Merlin's sake," Harry seethed. "He will not be expelled."

"You are right, Potter," Snape accompanied. "He will not."

Minerva McGonagall gave a reproachful look at everybody, including Dumbledore, who hadn't yet even said anything.

"This is sheer madness," she hissed. "That Malfoy boy is a son of a Death Eater! He will kill Mr. Potter if we don't do anything about it!"

"I'd hardly kill anyone who can give as good head as Potter here can," Draco grunted.

"Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall gasped, and blushed, her eyes angry. "How _indecent_!"

"Personally," Harry started. "I don't give a jumping cunt if you have some personal problems with gay men, but this is where we stand. So take it and swallow it, or jump in the lake and shag the squid. I'm sure you'll get lucky with _it_, if nobody else."

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore gave Harry a warning glare. "I think this is enough."

"Fifty points from Gryffindor!" cried McGonagall. "And two days detention with Mr. Filch, Potter!"

Snape chuckled.

"I think Harry doesn't look too well," Blaise Zabini interrupted. "Those Dementors did their trick to him again, and he's just lost his two best friends. So might I suggest you continue this needless argument tomorrow, or something? Clearly Harry isn't in his right mind, right now." 

Draco smiled thankfully at his friend. "I agree."

"Hey!" Harry pouted.

"There's no reason to postpone this," Dumbledore said, raising his hand. "I have made my decision. Nobody gets punished or expelled, except that you, Harry, will serve one night's detention with Filch due to your harsh words towards the Deputy Headmistress. And also, Harry, it would delight me if you would come to see me tomorrow. I'd like a word with you."

Both Harry and Draco nodded, and the Slytherins began to retreat towards the castle.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Harry mumbled at Professor McGonagall.

"Hmph," the Head of Gryffindor house harrumphed. "Very well, Mr. Potter. We shall not talk about this anymore."

**

In the Slytherin dungeons, Draco laid Harry gently on his bed in the sixth year boys' dormitory. Vincent, Gregory, Theodore, Blaise, Pansy and Millicent were all gathered in the room, watching the weak Gryffindor worriedly. With a smooth 'pop', the house-elf Winky emerged in the middle of the floor, carrying a mug of hot chocolate, sent by Madam Pomfrey from the hospital wing. Blaise took it and brought it down to Harry's lips. 

"Here, baby," she cooed. This almost made Draco laugh –Blaise never cooed. "Drink this. It'll make you feel stronger."

Harry accepted the warm drink, smiling weakly. "Thanks, Zabini."

"Why on earth didn't you have your wand with you?" Pansy asked. "Rather inconsiderate, to say the least."

"It was an accident," Harry muttered, looking adorably shy, with flushed cheeks and chocolate foam covering his lips.

Draco took the mug from his hand, and placed it on the nightstand. Then he tugged Harry under the fluffy quilt.

"Get some sleep, crazy-ass," he sighed, looking slightly concerned. 

Harry looked at him quietly. "Are you still mad at me?" 

"Hmm, a little," Draco gave him a small smile. "Now get some sleep." 

Harry picked up Draco's hand and nuzzled his cheek against the warm palm, closing his eyes. "Good night, then, love."

Draco's expression revealed that he was really shocked by Harry's gentleness, which evoked smooth chuckles from their audience.

"Suppose he wants you to stay with him," Pansy giggled.

**

Hours passed by, and the night tiptoed over the grounds of Hogwarts. Draco was sitting cross-legged at the end of his bed, doing his DADA homework. Every now and then, he ventured an uncertain glance at Harry, who snoozed peacefully right next to him, drooling on his pillow. Crabbe and Goyle had come back from the kitchens a couple of hours ago, and they were now playing with cards on the floor. The atmosphere was tranquil, to say the least. 

There was a silent knock on the door. Goyle went to open it, and let Blaise, Montague and Warrington enter the room.

"How is he?" Montague asked, walking over to Draco's bed.

Draco looked surprised. "You actually care how he is?" 

"Well, we do," was Blaise's reply. "He's important to you, you're important to us and therefore he's important to us as well." 

"He's fine, I guess," Draco shrugged. "Hasn't woken up, yet, though."

"He's gorgeous," smiled Warrington, admiring the shiny black hair and thick black lashes of the sleeping Gryffindor.

"He's more like beautiful," echoed Montague, sighing. 

"And he's _mine_," Draco growled, possessively. 

Blaise giggled a bit too loudly, and Harry stirred. 

"Oops," Montague grinned. "I think we're going now. Crabbe, Goyle, if you would care to sleep in the seventh years' dormitory tonight...?"

"Uh... sure," Vincent mumbled.

"Of course," Gregory accompanied, and grabbed his pajamas. "See you tomorrow then, Draco."

"See you," Draco smiled, and waited for the wooden door to slam shut behind the visitors. The clanking noise finally made Harry snap his hazy eyes open. Immediately, Draco pushed his homework aside and leaned closer.

"Hey there," he smiled lovingly down at the Gryffindor.

"Hey," Harry answered, softly. He looked confused, probably because he'd never seen a truly gentle expression on Draco before.

"Feeling better?"

Harry nuzzled deeper under the thick, soft quilt, and peered cautiously from under the brim, only his green eyes showing. "Um-hmm."

Draco broke into a genuine smile. "You're such a wanker, aren't you, baby?"

Harry disappeared completely under the cover. Draco laughed.

"You should get up, you know, it's almost ten in the evening."

"Ten?" was the muffled reply, and the black canvas stirred.

"Yes, ten," Draco was mirthful. "You've been sleeping for five hours, at least."

The bundle of sheets was silent for a moment, until Draco heard Harry yawn. "Do I need to return to my own dormitory now?"

"I don't know," Draco shrugged. "Do you want to?"

"No," Harry sighed. "Your bed is more comfortable than mine."

"Of course it is."

"So, I can sleep here tonight?" Harry crawled halfway out from his shelter.

"Hmph. Just make sure you don't steal the quilt from me at any point. That really pisses me off," Draco mock-pouted.

"I'll be good, Draco," Harry sighed, and nuzzled closer to the Slytherin. "You know I love you."

Draco went rigid. "Don't say that."

"Why not?" Harry asked, and slithered his arm under Draco's silken pajama top. "I do."

"You're mental, Harry. You know I'm about to become a Death Eater next Saturday?"

"Yes."

"And you know that I'm supposed to betray you to the Dark Lord?"

"Yes, Lupin let me understand as much."

"Then what the fuck are you still doing in my bed?"

"Hmm... let me see," Harry looked sly. "How about this?"

Harry tugged Draco closer, pressed him down and leaped into the Slytherin's lap. Then he captured Draco's lips hungrily, and ripped forcefully the shirt off, so that the buttons flew in every which direction. Draco's darkened, grey irises were huge with surprise, and Harry thought he looked really delicious.

"Harry!" Draco gasped, when he was freed from the kiss. "I don't think I've yet forgiven you entirely. That means I'm not gonna let you have sex with me."

Harry sulked, looking miserable. "Aww, come on! I know you want to –you wanted me even when we were fighting last Friday."

"That's not the _point_ here, you dipstick!" Draco snarled. "You have been a really bad boy, and I should punish you."

"So punish me," Harry's eyes glinted wickedly.

"You are one crazy-ass bitch, did you know that?" Draco pulled an exasperated face.

Harry smirked and began to kiss Draco's milky chest teasingly, licking his nipples on the way. "Pretty please, love?"

Draco groaned and shoved Harry off his lap. Harry's eyes flickered sadness and disappointment. However, Draco then made a sudden move and grabbed Harry from the neck and hauled him over, pressing the Gryffindor against the mattress and sitting on his stomach.

"Ha! Almost got you there!"

Harry looked ecstatic, grinning like a fool, his eyes brightening. "You're such a tease."

Draco slid a little lower, straddling Harry's waist, and positioned his fingers at the waistband of Harry's trousers. "Want me to open the zip?" he simpered, caressing the dark hair that led downwards from Harry's navel. "I can feel you need some, ah, freedom."

"Oh, yes... Please, Draco," Harry sighed.  

The Slytherin's fingers began to work with his trouser button. "Oh, yes, what?" Draco asked, looking innocent, and tugging the zipper open. "Tell me, Harry, do you want me?"

"More than anything," Harry's mouth was dry. "I want you, _only_ you."

"Good." Draco made a neat swirl with his wand, and a bottle of champagne emerged on the side table, in a wooden basket full of ice. 

"Celebrating?" Harry asked, stretching out his hands to reach Draco's buttocks and squeezing them.

Draco smiled wickedly down at him. "You could say so."

Harry watched with a contented expression as Draco reached for the large, green bottle and brought it in front of his face.

"Wish me to open it, Harry?" Draco simpered.

"Mmm... Yeah," Harry grinned.

"Oh, but I haven't got a bottle opener," Draco smirked. "Can I try a new way to open it?"

"Magic?" Harry asked. "Sure."

"Magic indeed," Draco's expression was devilish. Before Harry could do anything, Draco had swirled his wand once more, and the helpless Gryffindor found his hands bound with magical chains on the bedposts.

"No touching my ass yet, luv," Draco chuckled.

"Nothing ground-breaking here," Harry showed Draco his tongue, giggling. "Bondage games are out of date. I thought you were more original type of a lover."

"How about this for something more original?" Draco grinned, and brought the frosty, cold bottle against Harry's bare stomach.

"Aaaaaaaaagh! Eeeeek! STOP IT! SHIT! It's FREEZING!" Harry gasped eyes wide.

Draco laughed, very amused, bringing the bottle downwards along Harry's abdomen. "Oh, _really_?"

"DRACO! STOP IT! Aaaaaahhhh!!!"

"You've been a _really _naughty boy," Draco drawled, licking his lips. "I need to cool you down a bit."

Some sub-zero droplets of water slithered down the champagne bottle, dropping on Harry's front.

"Oh, MERLIN! Draco, I'm really gonna kill you... Eeeek! Aaah! DRACO!"

"Shut up, you sod!" Draco sneered and turned the bottle neck-way down, pushing it slowly inside Harry's pants.

Harry was beyond shocked, gasping for air and comprehension, and Draco sniggered self-satisfied. "Let's take your trousers off, shall we, love?" The blonde drew the cold bottle out of Harry's pants and put it on the floor.

"Just do anything you fucking want, Draco." Harry breathed heavily.

"Naturally," Draco said, rising up and, with swift movements, undressing Harry. He didn't mind ripping some of the Gryffindor's clothes apart in his haste; they were about the same size after all, and Harry could have any of his own robes in replacement later.

Harry arched his neck when Draco's fingers returned to fondle the soft skin right under his belly. Those magical fingers then slithered downwards, and chills ran down his spine.

"You like this?" Draco drawled, and ghosted his fingers over Harry's erection.

"Mmmm, yesss..." Harry panted. "More."

"Beg your pardon?" Draco raised his elegant brow, lifting his hand away. "If I remember correctly, this is exactly how you once teased me, that night on the castle roof."

"Gods, I was a sadist, forgive me! Just... _Do_ something already...!"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Fuck, _yeah_!"

Draco's white teeth flashed in the dungeon candlelight. "How about... _this_?"

Draco reached for the empty champagne bottle basket and picked up a cube of ice. Then he put it in his mouth, between his teeth, and leaned in to kiss Harry.

Harry moaned as Draco slipped the ice cube in his mouth, simultaneously entwining him into an ardent French kiss. The ice felt dead cold, and it sent shivers through his whole body, especially the lower parts of it. Draco retreated, leaving the ice to melt on Harry's tongue, and took another cube from the cask.

"Now, don't bite the cube, baby... It will melt too rapidly then," Draco smirked and placed the other cube in his own mouth. He, instead, chewed it in little frosty pieces.

"Damn, this really is arctic!" he breathed, before rapidly going down on Harry and swallowing his cock in his cold mouth.

"Mmmpfh!" Harry jerked up from the pillows, his wrists clashing against the magical bounds with the abrupt movement. His eyes went large as Draco sucked him with all his might, playing with the tiny pieces of ice around his erection at the same time.

"D-d-dwaco!" Harry couldn't help but moaning, the ice cube in his mouth preventing all coherent talking on his part. "Ohhh... Mowe! Pwease!"

Draco brought his other hand on Harry's abdomen and began to fondle his nicely-developed, now slightly wet muscles. Then he concentrated, relaxed his throat and took Harry's length completely in his mouth, pressing his lips tightly together. Then he pulled back, teasing Harry's cock all the way up with his cold tongue. 

Harry threw his head aside, his wild black hair spraying all over the green pillow, and his breath hitched with pleasure. The ice was melting in his mouth rapidly.

"I think the champagne bottle is still closed," Draco grinned, retreating. Harry's disappointed, unintelligible and whimpering form almost made him laugh. "Care to hold it while I do the opening?"

Harry's eyes were gleaming brightly with lust. With a nice flick of his wand, Draco released Harry's wrists and picked up the bottle from the floor. Then he bent the Gryffindor's legs over his shoulders, leaned down, and pushed the champagne bottle in Harry's hand.

"Now, I'm gonna ride you hard, and you're gonna scream my name," Draco informed. 

Harry gasped as Draco pushed inside, with one, long, smooth movement. Instinctively, he threw his arms around Draco's neck, grimacing with initial pain, the champagne bottle still clutched in his left hand. Draco sizzled when the cold glass of the bottle hit his shoulder blades, and thrust even more forcefully in Harry.

Harry mewled, feeling how Draco hit that one, pleasurable spot somewhere inside him.

"Do you want some more?" Draco hissed.

"Yes!" Harry screamed, as Draco did yet another attack with full force. "Yes, oh gods, YES!"

"Am I hurting you?" Draco said, grounding deep inside.

Tears filled Harry's eyes, and he squeezed the bottle with one hand, while the other cramped around Draco's lengthy white hair. "You know you are, you bitch!" he sniffled, and pulled Draco's locks, as if to make his point.

"Mmmmrrrrh," Draco groaned and lowered his lips almost on Harry's. "I bet Ron would've been nicer... gentle and sweet... all those things you Gryffindors appreciate."

Harry gasped with fury, and captured Draco's lower lip between his teeth. "That was so disgusting of you! Fuck you! I like it the Slytherin way, you son of a bitch, you _know_ I do."

Draco smiled scarily, looking like a hungry vampire. "I know."

Draco attacked Harry's neck, biting it madly as he made wild love to the Gryffindor. Harry squeezed the champagne bottle with both hands now, and clamped also his legs around Draco's waist, in pure ecstasy. Yelling and screaming Draco's name, he thrust upwards to meet Draco's every push. 

"Break me, baby..." Harry panted in Draco's ear. "Break me..."

Draco's shouted out loud as the orgasm hit him. Harry shouted with him, shuddering in his own pleasure.

The champagne bottle burst open, and a shower of golden bubbles rained over them.

**

"Harry?"

"Mmmmh?"

"Are you still awake?"

"Mmmmh."

Draco cracked one eye open and looked hazily at the black-haired boy, who lay next to him, breathing evenly against his chest.

"You know that I can't say it, but I do kinda love you, too."

"Mmmmh…" Harry yawned. "You just said it, you fuckwit."

"Hmm," Draco frowned. "So I did."

"Now shut up and get some sleep."

…TBC…


	25. Rune

**25. Rune**

Harry Potter woke up on Monday morning, feeling blissfully happy. He tightened his grip around the warm body that lay next to him in the bed, and inhaled the intoxicating scent of apples and cinnamon on the skin of Draco Malfoy's neck. He opened his eyes to watch the beautiful young man, who was so peacefully sleeping in his arms.

Strands of sparkling white hair were half covering Draco's eyes, but when Harry wiped them a little bit aside, he could admire the long black lashes that spread on the high cheekbones like two ebony fans. Draco Malfoy looked both vulnerable and sexy as he slept, Harry decided. 

The Gryffindor slid his fingers under the black sheets and over Draco's abdomen, to caress his boyfriend's notable six-pack. He smiled as he felt how his blood travelled down to his lower parts, his erection soon pressing against the blonde's tight buttocks. Harry nuzzled closer.

"Draco?" he whispered, teasingly.

The Slytherin only shifted an arm over his forehead, and continued breathing heavily in full sleep. 

Harry traced little circles over Draco's chest with his index and buckled his hips against Draco's butt. 

"Love…?"

"Mmmhhhh…" Draco mumbled, and buried his face in the pillow. 

What delighted Harry more was that the blonde simultaneously pushed his arse closer to him. Harry grinned foolishly and kissed Draco's shoulder.

"Lubricio," Harry muttered quietly, and his hand was soon coated with oily substance. Harry frowned, for he did not like using wandless magic –it reminded him too much of his responsibilities towards the wizarding world. But in cases such as this, when he had no idea where his own wand was –probably in his own dormitory- he was very happy of his secret skills.

Harry applied the lubricant generously over his hard cock, wondering why he and Draco had never before used such a nice little convenience in their games.

"Baby?" Harry tried to wake Draco up one more time.

Draco took a deep inhale, and slept on.

Harry sighed, and then brought his shaft between his boyfriend's cheeks, pushing a little forward to find the right spot where to enter. Draco gave a little whimper but didn't open his eyes. 

Harry shoved his weeping erection carefully inside, the lubricant making the movement smooth and easy. He moaned with contentment, and kissed Draco's neck. Draco whinged quietly and grabbed his pillow more forcefully. Harry took this as an encouragement and pulled out almost completely, only to slam soon back inside. 

"Mmh, Har…?"

"Morning, love…" Harry cooed in Draco's ear, kissing his temple.

"Uhh...Morning to you too...Why's your dick in my arse?"

Harry grinned, and moved his hips. "It likes your arse."

"Hrmph. It better _love_ my arse, if it's going to continue what it is doing."

"Don't be sulky, you don't wish me to tell you how cute you are in the morning, do you?"

"Harry…" Draco groaned, in a warning tone, but gave out a moan when he was suddenly pressed tightly against the mattress, Harry rolling on top of his back and ramming his cock harshly inside.

"You're so tight, darling...Even with the lube."

"Hmh, I thought there was something new involved," Draco spoke against his pillow. "It doesn't hurt that much with that stuff, you know."

"Yeah, I know…" Harry started to breathe more rapidly, when his climax was coming closer.

"What a nice way to wake up," Draco gasped, as Harry found his prostrate.

"Love you so much, oh, Draco, baby…" Harry panted as he pumped inside and out, feeling most heavenly.

"Ahh, mmmh...More...Yeah…" Draco buckled upwards to meet Harry's thrusts, and sunk his teeth in the pillow canvas.

Harry let out a loud grunt as he came, and Draco whimpered under his weight. Harry traced gentle kisses along Draco's spine and collapsed on top of him, not bothering even to come out. 

"Har…?" Draco said, with a groan.

"Mmmh?" Harry buried his face in the nape of Draco's neck, and closed his eyes.

"What time is it? You know we don't want to be late from Potions."

"Mrrrh...Don't you dare."

"Oh, yes I dare," Draco tried to turn around under Harry. "Potions happens to be my favourite subject, and there's no way I'm going to skip it."

"Aw, Dee...Just for me…?" Harry gnawed Draco's shoulder gently with his teeth.

"Ha! Especially _not_ for you," Draco pushed Harry aside. "You suck at Potions, you need to practise more."

Harry rolled on his back, and Draco sat up. Soon, Harry started to snigger stupidly, which made Draco very annoyed.

"Now what?" the Slytherin spat.

"Your hair is tousled," Harry reached out to brush the subtle strands, "Your hair's never tousled."

"Eek!" Draco looked horrified. "What did you do to it?"

"_Me_? It was _your_ bloody champagne!" Harry giggled, and watched amusedly how Draco crawled out of bed and ran to find his hairbrush. "Besides, I think we could use a real shower. At least I feel all sticky."

Draco glanced down at his naked self, and glowered in dismay. "Fucking hell. You're right."

**

They swept into the Slytherin showers, wearing nothing but their cloaks. Well, actually Harry was wearing one of Draco's cloaks, since he hadn't got his own clothes with him. They grinned stupidly at Malcolm Baddock, who clearly had just freshly learned about the true nature of their relationship. They met Blaise Zabini hanging out with Millicent at the end of the aisle, and Draco gave her a quick kiss on the cheekbone.

"We've got twenty minutes until the class starts," Harry informed, walking rapidly after Draco.

"Damn, we're not going to make it for breakfast at all," Draco looked irritated. "Here, the showers are behind this portrait."

"What was Zabini doing here in the boys' dormitory area, by the way?" Harry asked, as he followed Draco into the bathroom.

"Why, she either had a good fuck last night or she was taking a shower, just like us."

"But isn't her showers in the girls' part of the…?" Harry stopped his sentence when he realised they were not alone in the huge bathroom. 

Both Mary-Ann Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson smiled at them from a stall at Harry's left, sharing the same shower, and Carlos Warrington was having a wank in the cubicle at Harry's right. 

"Lovely morning, isn't it?" Draco smirked at them all, and pulled Harry into a free booth.

"Very lovely, Draco-buns," Pansy giggled.

Harry looked horrified, and clutched his cloak more firmly. "You have common showers?"

"Why, yes," Draco raised his brows. "No need to spend valuable dungeon space for two separate bathrooms, is there?"

"Um…" Harry did not know what to say.

"Relax, this is only for the sixth and seventh years. There are other shower rooms for the younger ones."

A long, dark green snake slithered past Harry, and he yelped. His eyes landed on Theodore Nott and Tracey Davies who were making out in the cubicle in front of him. The snake went and slid up Tracey's long leg, hissed audibly, and continued upwards along Theodore's arm.

"Snakes and orgies combined, at eight in the morning... Now I've seen it all…" Harry gaped, blushing violently.

"Ha, so prudent you Gryffindors are!" Draco laughed, "As if you hadn't seen snakes and naked women before!"

"Er, actually…" Harry reddened even more.

Draco's eyes widened. "Mother Morgan, you're not serious!"

"Um... Well... I've seen snakes, alright…"

"Okay, okay, slow down... First, let's take this offending cloak away," Draco sighed, and threw both his own and Harry's garments unceremoniously on the rack. "While I wash your unruly but oh-so-sexy hair, you might as well tell me who your first lay was. After all, you should trust me enough now to tell me that."

Harry cringed as Draco poured some shampoo on his locks. "She was Chang."

"Hm, no surprise there," Draco harrumphed, and massaged Harry's head with his fingers, making the shampoo foam. "She's a crazy bitch, from what I hear... Very unpredictable. So...Why did you not see her naked, I just wonder?"

"She didn't take her clothes off while we were at it, she just...er...lifted her skirt," Harry scowled at the memory.

"How disgusting," Draco said, and begun to soap Harry's body all over.

"And then she started to weep after Cedric, in the middle of everything," Harry finished. "It was horrible. Traumatizing, almost."

Draco leaned in and gave Harry a deep kiss. "No wonder why you're so fucked up in the brain," he teased.

Harry gave a little laugh, and grabbed the shower gel bottle from the rack. "If I weren't, I wouldn't be here with you, so don't complain. Now turn around you little arrogant bastard, so that I can wash your back."

Draco obeyed, and Harry began to massage the small of his back with a foamy, green, apple scented gel. Draco cursed in his mind that he hadn't gotten his own release in the morning, and was soon beginning to feel hard.

"'Arry dahlin'…" he said, grinning, and guided Harry's hand in front of him.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Draco…" Harry rolled his eyes, but started to fondle his lover anyway with his soapy hands. "Just...Wash your hair meanwhile, will you? We don't have too much time. Actually, less than fifteen minutes."

It was the strangest hair-wash Draco had ever performed at himself, since the sharp-tasting shampoo was constantly streaming into his mouth, due to the fact that he was moaning and gasping under Harry's ministrations and couldn't possibly keep his lips sealed. Theodore and Tracey winked their eyes at the pair while passing by, and Harry smiled back at them. After all, from what he suspected, this was the first time Draco surrendered completely to Harry in a public place.

"Now let's get this water flowing, shall we," Harry simpered, as Draco collapsed against him, his knees weak. "If we emerge all soapy and foam-covered in front of Snape, I'm sure he will take house points even from you."

**

Harry inhaled deeply as he lifted the collar of his shirt under his nose. He was wearing Draco's clothes, since his own were at the Gryffindor tower, and there was no time to run there and back before Snape's lessons. Draco's shirt smelled of the very same intoxicating flavours than his lunar-pale skin, and Harry fondled the soft, grey angora material happily. 

"Potter, come on!" Draco glared impatiently from the door. "Gregory, Vincent, you go ahead," he added, waving at his friends. "I don't want us all to be late because of one stubborn Gryffindor!"

"But I can't go there wearing a Slytherin tie and a Slytherin cloak!" Harry protested. "My friends would kill me."

"Your friends just abandoned you, if I recall correctly," Draco looked sour.

"Yeah, but only the two best ones. There's still Dean, Neville and Seamus to think about."

"Oh, for crying out loud," Draco looked at the ceiling, pleadingly. "Come here, then, you cry baby. I'll change those colours for you."

"Thanks," Harry smiled, and walked next to Draco. "I couldn't do that without my wand."

That was a lie, Harry knew. A simple transfiguration like that was not too hard to perform. But Harry didn't want anybody to know about his wandless casting skills, not yet. Not even Draco. After all, Dumbledore had advised him to keep it a secret.

"Done," Draco mumbled, and pocketed his wand, after a couple of rapid incantations. "Now come on! Four minutes!"

Draco pulled Harry into a run, and they made it speedily towards the Potions dungeon.

"Hey, what's this?" Harry cried in dismay, in the mid course. "You changed the colours of the cloak badge alright, but there's still the serpent left!"

Draco smirked evilly. "Oops."

Harry smacked him in the head. "Serpent, heaven forbid, in Gryffindor colours!"

"What can I say? It looks rather kinky."

They stumbled in Professor Snape's classroom just as the Potions master himself emerged from the other door, scowling at his class as usual. 

"Malfoy, take your seat. Potter, five points for being late."

Harry was too happy to care, and followed Draco to the Slytherin side of the room. Snape's lips curled upwards in amusement, and he eyed Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger rather maliciously.

"Morning, class," he finally drawled, after he had arranged his parchments. "How are your Polyjuice Potions doing? Go and get your cauldrons, they are in the mellowing room, as you know."

Harry began to walk towards Pansy and Millicent, with whom he was paired the previous Monday. On the way to their table, he saw Ron and Hermione glaring at him, Ron even revealing his corner teeth like an angry dog. _Obedient dog,_ Draco's words echoed in Harry's ears, and he smiled, despite himself. He smiled also at the puzzled expressions of Lavender, Parvati, Neville and Seamus, being happy that they all seemed to be confused rather than angry –if not counted Lavender's continuous, childish wrath.

"Harry?" a whisper came from his left. "Harry, can I have a word?"

"Dean!" Harry turned around to meet his roommate. "Oh, why do you have a black eye?"

"Ron hit me," Dean explained, looking sombre. "He didn't like the idea that I knew about you and Malfoy and didn't tell him."

"That bastard!" Harry breathed, fury building inside him.

"Don't bother," Dean waved his hand. "I think Ron's not my type, after all, and I heard Parvati say my black eye looks rather sexy."

Harry snorted mirthfully, being not able to help it. "You're so bizarre, Dean, did you know?"

"Yeah, I knew," Dean grinned. "But not that much different from you."

"True," Harry smiled, and glanced at Draco, who was patiently helping Gregory Goyle with something.

"So, you really have made it official, now?" Dean leered.

"Um, I guess we're not hiding it, anymore," Harry said, "But I don't know about 'making anything official', as you put it. That sounds too much of an engagement or something. And that would be gross."

"How so?" Dean wondered. "I say it'd be sweet!"

"Well, neither Malfoy nor I are exactly the 'sweet' type, are we?" Harry asked, grinning. 

"I guess not," Dean admitted. "Well, here comes Seamus with our cauldron...See you later, then, Harry?"

"Sure, see you later," Harry smiled, and went to sit next to Pansy. Millicent had just laid their respective cauldron on the desk.

"Everybody ready?" Professor Snape's acidic snarl echoed in the dungeon room. "Better be, or else…"

Harry noticed how Neville was shuddering in his seat, biting his nails. 

"The first question today is what the colour of your concoction is," Snape said. "We'll start from the Gryffindor side. Granger, if you please."

"It is light blue, sir," Hermione said, proudly. "Just like the instructions in our book say that it should be."

Snape's eyes flashed with something indeterminable and he swirled his head around, "Malfoy, how about you?"

"Metallic green, sir," Draco said, looking slightly perplexed.

"Good, good," Snape said, and turned back to Hermione. "As you see, Miss Granger, we haven't quite followed the instructions from the book. Metallic green is the right colour, not light blue."

Harry saw how Hermione's eyes went large, and her mouth dropped open.

"This is your first time ever to fail a potion, is it not, Miss Granger?" Snape continued triumphantly. 

"Y-yes, sir," Hermione stammered.

Harry felt gleeful and satisfied, even though it wasn't really typical of him in situations like this. 

"I will not reduce house points, however," Snape simpered, "But you will have to start it all over, whilst the rest of us shall continue with something new and _really_ interesting."

Hermione looked crushed, and Harry snorted silently.

"Our potion is metallic green, too," Pansy whispered in Harry's ear. "We passed!"

"Great!" Harry beamed.

"Now, everyone whose potion is of the right colour shall finish it by adding the knotgrass. The rest of you, pour your pitiful cooking away and make a new brew," Snape ordered.

Harry saw, to his surprise, that Neville was among those who added the knotgrass.

**

Harry, Draco and everybody else who had passed the Polyjuice Potion, were released from the class earlier than the others. Harry decided it was now the perfect time to go and see Headmaster Dumbledore. After all, the life was not completely about shagging one gorgeous Slytherin into oblivion. There was still the burning question about the Dementors, and why they had entered the Hogwarts grounds.

"Sit down, my dear boy," Dumbledore said as Harry entered the Headmaster's office. "And have some tea and cookies."

Dumbledore was currently petting Fawkes, who was just newly born from the ashes. The tiny fledgling was roosting on its silvery perch, only one, cute fiery-red feather standing on its head.

"You wanted me to come see you, Headmaster," Harry said, grabbing a large cookie. "Is this about the Dementors?"

"I was expecting Mr. Malfoy to come with you, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore straightened up and turned his worried blue eyes at Harry.

"Hmph, we're not married or anything, you know," Harry mumbled, his mouth full of the biscuit.

"Well maybe you should be," Dumbledore joked, and Harry choked, spitting the cookie on the floor. "Harry, I have not ever seen you this happy."

"I'm not happy," Harry protested, wiping his mouth. "Hermione and Ron abandoned me."

"Many strange things are happening around here these days," Dumbledore looked severe again. "The War is coming closer."

"So, those Dementors were here to collect me, then?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I'm afraid that they were," the Headmaster sighed. "According to Miss Tonks, they left the Cuillin Ridge early yesterday morning and Apparated on the hills nearby our school. On Lucius Malfoy's orders, I might add."

"Malfoy's?"

"Yes. That is why I had hoped to see young Draco, too. He might've gotten some more detailed information about the attack."

"I'll let him know that you want a word with him," Harry said. "Even though I don't think he'll talk to you."

Dumbledore nodded, and then moved to sit at his desk. "I need to ask you, Harry, if your scar has been hurting of late?"

"No, not at all, really," Harry looked surprised. 

"This has been a great concern of mine," the old wizard sighed, "Voldemort is gathering more and more power, and at times like this, your scar should be frequently burning."

"Yeah, you're right," Harry looked thoughtful. "Wonder why that's not happened."

"I wonder that, too," Dumbledore admitted.

"Well, maybe Voldemort's overly happy or something," Harry shrugged. "I wouldn't know if his bursts of glee have happened simultaneously when I was having...er...never mind."

"I think there's more than that," Dumbledore said, generously ignoring Harry's flushed cheeks. "I think Mr. Malfoy has something to explain to the both of us." 

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"I think that Draco is leading two lives," Dumbledore answered, looking serious. "As he is loyal to his father and possibly also to Voldemort, he is also in love with you, which means he's loyal to our cause, as well. I have seen his split up behaviour."

Harry glared, only raising his brows a little, to indicate he was listening.

"I have had first hand information that he has been in regular contact with his father, but I have also seen how he esteems you," Dumbledore continued. "Now, we know that Lucius Malfoy is a Death Eater, although no solid proof has been found to raise a charge against him. And we know that Draco Malfoy hasn't gotten his Dark Mark yet, although it is the high time. Therefore this conversation would have been more fruitful had Mr. Malfoy come here with you, to tell how the things really are. Is he going to join the Death Eaters in the near future, or is he going to follow his heart –follow you?"

"Well, that you must ask him, not me," Harry shrugged. "As for me, I don't give a damn as long as he's in love with me."

"Do I understand you correctly that even if Draco Malfoy was to choose the path of the Dark, you would still pursue this relationship with him?"

"Well, yeah."

"Even though he could betray you to Voldemort?"

"Yeah. And I really don't see how any of this has something to do with my scar hurting," Harry snapped, annoyed.

"Your scar has not been hurting because I believe Mr. Malfoy has placed some sort of protective charm on you," Dumbledore smiled a little. "Can you remember any situation which might verify my suspicions?"

Harry looked bitchy. "Well, now that you mention it –no, I do not."

"Very well," the Headmaster simpered, "But I cannot yet abandon this thought, either. As such, I would very much like to talk with Mr. Malfoy about this. It is very important for me to know that he is indeed on our side, and not Lord Voldemort's." 

"He's on Voldemort's side," Harry offered. "So I must most politely ask the Headmaster snap out of his dreams."

"Draco Malfoy is a great wizard, Harry. He would be a powerful ally. Are you sure that he is not going to fight for the light?"

"No, but frankly, this conversation is boring me. As you must've noticed, I do not like to even think about the possibility that I might one day have to separate from him. So if you'll excuse me…"

Harry stood up and walked to the door.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes?" Harry sighed.

"You must realise this conversation did not make any sense whatsoever. Therefore, please do tell Mr. Malfoy to come see me as soon as possible."

Harry only rolled his eyes, and exited the Headmaster's area.

**

Draco was sitting in the Great Hall, eating sandwiches and scribbling down some notes for his Care of Magical Creatures lesson that would start in half an hour. He was dissatisfied, for he really didn't find Runespoors very challenging. Therefore, the arrival of his father's eagle owl Malum was a welcome distraction.

Draco's smile faded, however, upon reading the letter.

_Draco,_

_Explain yourself. You know exactly what I speak of. I want a direct answer. Malum shall wait for it._

_Lucius_

Draco gulped down the last bit of his cheese sandwich and dropped the parchment on the table. "So, it's the explanation time," he sighed. "Fuck."

"Draco? Are you busy?" asked Blaise Zabini, sitting next to him on the bench.

"Not really," Draco said, giving the letter to Blaise. "Just wondering how to answer this."

The girl furrowed her brows, reading the exquisite handwriting of Lucius Malfoy.

"I'm in such a mess," Draco wailed, massaging his temples. "I don't know what to do."

"Then it's a good thing that your friends do," Blaise smiled. "Here, take the quill and write just as I say."

"Just as you say?"

"Trust me. Now..._Dear Father._"

"Father," Draco wrote.

"_Everything_ _is under control. I had my own reasons for my actions, as you shall find out very soon_."

Draco modified Pansy's sentence to an elegant phrase, and lifted his right brow at the girl.

"Don't look at me that way, Draco. Just hear me out."

"Fine."

"_Prepare to welcome both me and my new friend to __Malfoy__Mansion__ next Saturday morning_."

"Prepare to...what?"

"Just write it, will you!" Blaise huffed. 

Draco gave her a reproachful look, but swung his quill elegantly over the parchment, writing just as Blaise said.

"Good," Blaise smiled.

"Then what?"

"Hmm…" Blaise sucked her lower lip. "_Do not bother asking me how I made this happen. Explanation time is later. Just ask if it's convenient for a certain person to pay us a visit that very same evening. I guarantee he will receive a very interesting reception_."

"I guarantee, huh?" Draco sulked, writing Blaise's words down, and finished the letter.

"Now it's time to have a little chat with Harrykins. Where's he?" Blaise asked.

"Seeing Dumbledore, I guess," Draco shrugged.

"Okay," Blaise let the air flow slowly out from her lungs. "Here's what I've had in mind. We'll all meet in that new, all-houses common room at six tonight. In the White Chamber, so that it won't look too suspicious to the younger Slytherins. Can you and Harry make it?"

"If we must," Draco said, reading the letter through. "Bini, what's all this? I can't possibly send this letter."

"You will send it," Blaise smoothed Draco's hair. "Trust me here."

Glaring at his best friend, Draco rolled the parchment up and fastened it to Malum's leg. "Trust you? You're the most frightening scheming bitch I have ever had the pleasure to know."

"Yes, but that's exactly why you love me."

"Love you?"

"In the Malfoy sort of way, of course," Blaise grinned.

Draco grinned back. "Of course. Now come on, put your cloak on, our next class will start in five minutes."

"Yeah, we have that atrocious Hagrid," Blaise made a face, and slid the black cover over her shoulders. "See if we still have Runespoors."

**

Harry was making his way hastily towards the Divination tower. He was afraid that he might be late, because after the meeting with Dumbledore, he had needed to go to the Gryffindor Tower to collect his wand and schoolbag. And, of course, the Gryffindor tower was situated completely on the other side of the castle than Trelawney's classroom. 

When climbing up the stairs and entering the heavily-scented space, Harry was greeted with a loud murmur of voices. Clearly, people had been talking about the happenings of the previous day, and the rumours of his relationship with Draco Malfoy had naturally spread like fire. Obviously, they were now the most burning subject in the school. 

Harry sought out Ron from the crowd, and met his eyes. They looked bitter and hurt, and Harry saw how his former best friend had cramped himself tightly between Seamus and Neville, so that Harry could not possibly sit down next to him. 

"Oi, Harry! Come and sit with us!" shouted Anthony Goldstein.

"Yeah," chorused Dean, who was sitting at the same table with the Ravenclaws. "Come here, I need to speak to you."

Harry shrugged, and edged towards the round table, located quite far away from the corner spot he usually had. 

"So, is it really true?" asked Michael Corner, fidgeting rather nervously with his quill. "You and...and Malfoy?"

Harry dropped on his seat and smiled. "Yeah. It's true."

Dean was beaming. "Two sickles, please, Mr. Corner."

"You were betting on it?" Harry asked, amused. "Dean, you sod, you _knew_ the truth, and not just guessed right."

Michael dug out the sickles and murmured some swear words, and something that sounded like 'why wouldn't I fucking believe him'.

"So…" ventured Anthony. "How are you feeling?"

"Quite happy, thanks," Harry said, taking forth his notebook and quill. "Even though not everybody accepts my choice. Just look at Ron."

Anthony sighed. "Yeah. He was your best friend, eh? Sorry he couldn't take the news."

"Why are _you_ all being so supportive?" Harry wondered. "Dean, did you threaten them?"

"I'd never do anything like that!" Dean looked mock-shocked, batting his lashes. 

"Just a little," Anthony grinned.

"Actually, Anthony's quite the experimentalist, himself," Michael supplied, and the aforementioned Ravenclaw blushed. "And as for me, I can't blame you for anything, Harry. Cho told me about...er...certain things, and I totally understand why...er...you decided that you're bisexual –or gay."

Harry looked terrified. "Cho told you what?"

"Nothing that was too flattering for _her_," Michael huffed. "Thank Merlin I'm through with her."

"There's one thing I've always wanted to know," Dean wriggled his brows. "How big it is? I mean, Malfoy's? And is he the sub or the dominant one?"

"Yeah," Anthony chorused. "And how long have you been seeing each other, anyway? I swear I had no idea at the party last Friday."

"Do you use any...er...extra devices?" Michael flushed.

Dean gave him a look.

"Hey! Even though I'm straight, that doesn't mean I couldn't be curious!" Michael whined.

"And here I thought people would be discussing about the Dementors and not my sex life," Harry laughed.

The others laughed, too, and then drifted in a comfortable silence as Professor Trelawney sailed in the classroom. 

**

It was a windy day, although rather warm. Draco sat on his knees on the ground, which was highly non-typical of him, and had also a highly non-typical smile decorating his handsome features. He was holding a hatchling of a Runespoor in his arms, playing with it gently. He completely ignored the horrified looks of the Hufflepuff students and the stiff form of Hagrid, who was both petrified with fear and admiration. 

"You are such a show-off," laughed Blaise, sitting next to him on the grass.

"Tell me something I already don't know," Draco smirked, and fondled the middle head of the snake from under the chin. The left head was snoozing on his femur, and the right one was high up, keeping watch like a ready-to-bite viper.

"Are yeh sure it won' bite yeh, Malfoy?" Hagrid asked, swallowing in fear. "Meh don't wanna get suspended."

"It won't bite me, Hagrid," Draco said, for the first time speaking civilly to the half-giant, and smiled. "We're soul mates."

"Yes, about that magnificent Patronus of yours, by the way…" ventured Justin Finch-Fletchley, walking closer. "It was very cool."

Draco raised his gleaming grey eyes at the other boy, grinning like an idiot. "Thanks, Finch."

"Umm...Draco? Are you alright?" asked Goyle. 

"Yeah," said Crabbe. "You're scary when you are...um...happy?"

"Nonsense," snapped Pansy. "He just got well fucked in the morning, that's what it is."

Draco coughed, and Blaise and Justin laughed.

"Well, the rest of yeh students…" Hagrid cleared his throat, feeling rather confused. "Yeh start ter feedin' ther baby snakes now."

As the group of Slytherin and Hufflepuff students began to scatter, Draco returned all his attention to the Runespoor hatchling in his lap, making it hiss in pleasure.

"I wish I could speak Parseltongue," Draco said quietly. "If Hagrid will borrow you, I'll introduce you to someone who can."

"Runespoors were the most popular pets of the ancient dark overlords," Blaise remembered, timidly touching the baby snake where she thought its tail begun. "How fitting it would be, having this cute little thing as your pet with Harry?"

"We don't even live together, Bini darling," Draco was amused. "So don't start planning our lives ready. If I let you do that, you would soon have decided what colour our bedroom curtains have to be."

"Red, definitely Gryffindor red," Blaise said without hesitation. "With cute little silvery serpents embroidered on the folds."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Zabini, one more word…"

"Remember to bring Harry to the White Chamber tonight, then," Blaise interrupted her friend. "Montague says he and Warrington have written down the main points of our plan, and Millicent says she's got a new idea."

"So you guys really are serious about this 'get-rid-of-the-old-crappy-overlord' –thingie?" Draco lifted the Runespoor on his shoulder, and let the snake nestle in his lengthy, soft hair. "And that letter you made me write...That was a part of your oh-so-clever plans, too?"

"Damn right it was," Blaise said, "So you better play along with this. You have no chance to retreat now."

"May I ask the reason why you're doing this?" Draco raised his brows. "You're Slytherins, and your parents are Death Eaters. _You_ are supposed to become Death Eaters. There's a rampant nuts evil overlord out there, wanting us to follow him. And if we disobey him, we're dead. So I can't really see your point here. Why so suddenly supporting the light side?"

"We are Slytherins, yes," Blaise replied. "And that means we're ambitious. Using every possible means to get what we want. And as it is, we want _you_ to rule the world with _Harry_. We do _not _want that joke of a Darth Vader shadowing our lives. See? Our reasons are purely selfish. We don't want to kiss anybody's hems, kill anybody because somebody just tells us to do so, wear black cloaks everywhere instead of our new fashionable robe-sets, and besides, the Dark Lord is ugly. No ugly leaders, thank you."

"Very convincing," Draco nodded. "But who's Darth Vader?"

"He's, um...just someone…"

"Bini, you haven't been doing Muggle Studies, have you?" Draco scowled.

"Well, just a little…" Blaise looked ashamed.

"Oh, where am I going to end up with you?" Draco sighed, good-naturedly, and drew Blaise in a tight hug.

Everybody followed the weird scenario from beside their respective Runespoor cages, not able to decide what the hell was going on. 

**

During the last fifteen minutes of Divination, Harry was counting the seconds that ticked forwards in his wristwatch. He hated the subject, hated the teacher, hated that he had found a dead fly from the bottom of his tea-cup, and he hated Ronald Weasley. Well, actually he did not hate Ron, but he felt bitter and unreasonably angry at him. 

_Why are you so enraged, Harry? _he asked himself. _You knew his reaction beforehand. You knew how much he detested Malfoy. You knew the Weasley family and the Malfoy family carried on this horrible wrath against each other, starting from the days before you were born. You must give him time. Just give him time...tick...tick...tick…_

Harry sighed as the last two minutes of the lesson started. He blocked out successfully Trelawney's high-pitched, misty voice, and concentrated on examining his fingernails. From the corner of his eye, he stole a glance at Ron every now and then, every time feeling the same surge of bitterness crashing through his heart.

"…and I might as well tell you, that Mr. Malfoy is really gifted with Divination. He has not told me, but I am sure he has been seeing something from his crystal ball during these last two weeks. I can sense such things with my divine senses. Besides, Mr. Malfoy has been living his entire youth in Wiltshire, the promised land of Diviners. He has been surrounded by the magic of the ancient seers, and I hear Malfoy Manor is situated quite close to the Stonehenge itself!" Trelawney's voice echoed in the classroom. "Therefore it would be a miracle if he would not be able to see things…"

Harry lazily realised that the subject was his boyfriend. He looked questioningly at Michael, Anthony and Dean, all of them intently listening to the professor.

"What's she saying?" Harry whispered, "Something about Draco?"

"Haven't you been listening?" Dean looked surprised. "It's all about Draco Malfoy and the way he's been acting in his classes. The old bat things he's a Diviner."

"A Diviner?" Harry looked flustered. "He hasn't told anything to me."

"Maybe he doesn't recognize the symptoms," Anthony joined in. "Or maybe he's just scared."

"I wonder what he's been seeing," Michael said.

"I need to ask him," Harry decided. "What if it's something serious?"

Ronald Weasley's voice carried all the way to the round table from the far away corner. "I hope he saw his own death."

This was the last drop for Harry. He would not tolerate such comments about his boyfriend, not even if it was Ron who was saying them. 

"The class is adjourned," Trelawney said, but for the first time, Harry wasn't rushing outside. Instead, he walked straight to Ron, Seamus and Neville.

"Neville, Seamus, can I have a word with Weasley here?" he asked, although his tone implied it was rather a straight command.

"I don't want a word with _you_," Ron spat. 

"I didn't ask you if you wanted or not," Harry snarled.

Neville squeaked, packed his things, and hurried after the retreating Ravenclaw students. Seamus was a little slower, eyeing Harry and Ron suspiciously, clearly wishing to stay and listen. 

"Seamus, come on!" Dean shouted from the floor hatch. "Leave them alone. They have some things to clear out, and that's none of our business."

Reluctantly, Seamus inched out of the classroom.

"So," Ron said, crossing his arms and eyeing Harry's fisted hands. "Trelawney's still here, so you can't beat me without getting detention."

Harry looked vile, his green eyes ready to burn holes into everyone who dared to look straight at them. Ron wasn't one of those brave ones.

"Then I suggest we take this outside, you wimp," Harry smirked. "I've wanted to hammer some sense into you since Friday."

Ron glared at Harry's twisted mouth in fury, as if wishing to smash all the teeth down his throat. "Likewise…"

**

Draco and his classmates were walking away from Hagrid's hut, their lesson having just ended, when they got Harry and Ron in their eyesight. Crabbe and Goyle started chuckling, pointing at the two forms that were wriggling on the ground near the greenhouses, obviously trying to beat the shit out of each other.

"Aren't those Harry and the Weasel?" asked Pansy, eyes dilated.

"Yeah, they are," answered Tracey, her mouth drawing into a grin. "Let's go see!"

"What say you, Sir Draque?" Blaise looked at Draco with sparkling eyes. "Wanna bet who wins?"

"Only if _you _are willing to bet for _Weasley_," Draco harrumphed, and started to take rapid steps towards the battling field. He patted the baby Runespoor on his shoulder, murmuring words that sounded like 'you better talk sense to my self-destructive boyfriend, or he'll get so beaten he won't be able to have sex in days'. 

The snake, which Hagrid had gladly given to Draco when the Slytherin had explained that Harry would like to see it, only hissed silently, and curled gently around his neck. 

When reaching Ron and Harry, the Slytherin sixth year class sat down on the dry grass mattress to watch the show. Only Crabbe and Goyle were slightly worried that they would miss the lunch; the others were completely enthralled by what they saw, if not counted Draco's slight worry that his shirt and trousers would be completely ruined –the ones Harry was wearing, that is.

"They've never fought before, not physically," informed Mary-Ann. "I've had a chat with the little Weasley, Virginia, and she said those two are best friends, always there for each other."

"How horribly cliché," commented Tracey, "And I suppose she also said that 'there's nothing that can become between them'?"

"Yeah," Mary-Ann smiled. "Obviously, she was wrong."

"Shouldn't we stop them?" Blaise wondered, a little worried. 

"As long as Harry's on the winning side, no way in hell," Draco simpered, standing against the castle wall, drooling over his boyfriend and laughing at Ron's pitiable squeals.

**

Harry was furious to say the least, currently pulling Ron's hair and biting his wrist. He had never in his life assaulted Ron physically, but it felt strangely good, hearing the redhead moan in pain that he, Harry, had caused. 

His mind drifted elsewhere when Ron's knee collided with his ribs and forced him to double over. Then he felt how Ron hauled him around, pressed his face against the muddy grass and breathed in his ear.

"You fucking faggot, I tried to understand you, and I thought I did. But then, you have to go and fuck that fucking slut Malfoy! _Malfoy_, for fuck's sake! Harry Potter, you're fucking out of your mind. And I'm going to show you just _how_ crazy you are."

Harry started laughing, which took Ron a bit off guard. 

"What's so funny?" Ron asked and shoved Harry's head more firmly against the ground. 

Harry continued to chuckle, and thought silently in his mind how his reaction was similar to the one Draco had had when they'd first fought after that interesting Quidditch match. Tears of mirth escaped Harry's eyes as he vaguely noticed that they had gathered audience.

"I...I could almost...think that you are _jealous_...Ron Iddekins…" Harry laughed.

"_Jealous? Me?_" Ron shouted, "Of whom? I'm not even gay!"

"The more worrisome for you," Harry wheezed.

"Harry, I _swear _to you that...ouch!"

Harry elbowed Ron harshly in the stomach, and then buckled his head upwards, hitting Ron's chin with his scull. 

"That was uncalled for!" Ron snarled, holding his jaw, when Harry suddenly grabbed the redhead's hands and twisted them behind his back. "Ouch! Watch it, you sick queer!"

Harry had regained his angry composure and was glaring down at Ron with pure distaste. "If I were you, I'd not struggle. Otherwise there may be some bone braking. You understand?" he hissed.

Ron dumbly nodded, and swallowed.

"Good. Now listen," Harry continued, his voice dark and low, and very sexy in Draco's opinion. "First, if you ever call me something like 'sick queer' again, there will be no more Mr. Little Ronald Weasley in your disgustingly sloppy pants. Secondly, if you ever say anything disparaging about Malfoy in my presence again, there'll be some serious hexing that is targeted at your arse. Including a very thick broomstick. Thirdly, if you don't stop that wriggling and whining right now, there'll be a nice tattoo on your forehead, saying 'I want to fuck Umbridge'. And if you don't go and apologise Dean in the course of this very day, I will announce the whole school you've got Chlamydia. From Snape. Savvy?"

Ron gulped, and nodded.

"Good. Now hear this," Harry smirked evilly. "If you want there to be a chance for you to reconcile with me some day, you better start supporting me in my choices. It may be hard for you to believe, but I am really happy with Malfoy. He's a selfish bitch, I know, but that's exactly why I love him. He isn't trying to please me in everything, like the others. You should know, you fell in love with Hermione because you two were constantly bickering. The same goes with me and Draco. Besides, Draco's as sexy as hell, you just haven't seen him stark naked."

"B-bad mental image…"

"Shut up. So, how is it, Ron? Or should I call you Weasley from now on?"

Ron was silent for several seconds before bursting into tears.

"Oh, leave it out…" Harry rolled his eyes and stood up, letting Ron free. "What a pussy."

"You...You can still call me Ron," Ron sobbed, curling into a tight ball. "But you must give me time."

"Yeah, I know," Harry said nonchalantly, dusting his clothes. "But it felt good to fight, eh?"

Ron gave a difficult grin, his lower lip bleeding, "Yeah."

"So, Blaise…" Draco's drawl carried in the cool autumn air. "Did you bet for the Weasley or not?"

The tensed atmosphere soon melted as Harry threw himself in Draco's arms and kissed him fervently. The Slytherin girls giggled, and Blaise was even kind enough to go and help Ron up to his feet. Crabbe and Goyle left the field, hastily retreating towards the Great Hall for lunch.

"So...We're good, are we?" asked Ron, glancing shyly at Harry, who was obviously mesmerized by the graceful Slytherin prince. 

"Yeah, we're good, as long as you're good," Harry smiled at the other Gryffindor, affectionately nuzzling his head under Draco's chin.

"Watch out for my snake, Har," Draco said, as the Runespoor suddenly tightened its grip around his throat. 

"Snake?" Harry was confused, and took a couple of steps away from Draco.

"I don't know its name," Draco explained, detaching the Runespoor hatchling from his skin and handing it out to Harry. "Actually, I don't even know if it's he or she. Maybe you could ask it?"

Harry was fascinated by the beauty of the little creature. It was not longer than twenty-five or thirty centimetres, and the orange colour of its snake skin was bright like fire. The stripes that encircled its form neatly were coal black and perfectly lined, and its six red eyes were looking at Harry intently.

"You're beautiful," Harry said in Parseltongue. "What's your name?"

The left head of the Runespoor sizzled something that was completely incomprehensible to Draco, and Harry smiled.

"Do you like Draco Malfoy?" Harry asked the snake.

Again, the snake gave a strange hiss, which made Harry smile even wider.

"What's it say?" Draco asked, looking a bit nervous. 

"Nobody has yet named them. But the middle head is a male, and the other two are females. And it told me your hair smells pretty good, and that you have a very soft skin. Although that wasn't news to me."

"Uh-huh," Draco looked sceptical, but decided to believe anyway, self-centred as he was.

"So...You want to name them?" Harry asked, petting the middle head.

"Eurgh, no!" Draco frowned. "That would be so girlish and stupid. Let's just call it simply Rune."

"So you intend to keep it?" Harry looked amused. "You can't even understand what it says."

"Um, I was thinking that _you_ might want to keep it," Draco confessed. "Hagrid doesn't mind, he has plenty of them, and as for me...I really would like to hear you speak that sexy Parseltongue more often."

The Runespoor let out a silent fizz and Harry chuckled.

"What?" Draco glowered at the baby snake.

"Says they've never heard anything so disgustingly romantic before."

"I wasn't being romantic! Malfoys are _never_ romantic!" Draco shouted at Rune. "You understand me, snake?"

Harry laughed, and started to take Draco towards the castle entrance. "Come on, let's go eat something."

"I'd rather eat _you_," Draco's eyes narrowed slyly, and he slid his hand under Harry's shirt.

Rune hissed again, as if gagging, but went silent after receiving a very nasty glance from Draco. Harry kissed the annoyed Slytherin on the cheek, giggling, and they left towards the Great Hall hand in hand.

Neither of them paid attention to Ron and Blaise who stayed behind, engaged in a silent conversation.

…TBC...


	26. The Call

A/N:Ridiculously exuberant amount of hugs and thank-you kisses to _Rotschopf_ and _Dystopic_ for betaing this chapter for me. They were so thorough and yet so quick that I wonder how they did it… I cannot help but love them.

**26. The Call**

It was a heated, passionate moment –just this kind of moment in time which inspires romantic people to say they'll never forget the magic and the moon, but which will still fade to history and memory alone in mere weeks. Luckily enough, neither Harry nor Draco were the romantic type. Neither of them said that the moment would stay with them forever. Instead, Draco told Harry they'd have to do the whole thing again someday soon.

"You know you can ask me anything, and I will cooperate," Harry breathed in his lover's ear. "You're such a pretty fuck."

Draco smirked, and savoured the taste of sweat on his lips with his tongue. "I know."

"Shouldn't you go inside already?"

"I thought I just was."

"Ha ha," Harry stuck his tongue out, which Draco immediately captured between his lips. "Mmmh, seriously Draco… We're having too much sex."

"Ha! It's _you_ who _initiates _it all!" Draco ruffled Harry's hair.

Harry crossed his arm, quirking his lips in a mock pout.

Draco pulled away and glared reproachfully at the thick, wooden door at some distance in front of them. "You won't accompany me, then?"

Harry smiled, tiredly. "I think I'd rather gather some energy while you're having the talk with the old man. Pick me up from the Gryffindor common room when it's time for the meeting with Zabini."

"Fine."

Lazily, Draco Malfoy stood up and pushed the door ajar. He peered inside, adjusting his half-open tie in a more formal position.

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?"

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, come in, come in," Dumbledore greeted, eyeing him strangely. "Have a seat –erm –that is if you still can sit down."

Draco trotted to the furthest corner from Dumbledore's desk, to sit in an armchair that was fluffy and comfy enough for his taste –the usual visitors' chair in the middle of the room was too plebeian much for his sophisticated Malfoy arse.

"Not to worry, Potter was the bottom this time."

"I would prefer it if you did not occupy my staircase in such a way."

Draco looked innocent, "And what way would that be, exactly, Headmaster?"

"Mr. Malfoy, do not play games with me. If this occurs again, it will be detention," Dumbledore warned, "for both of you."

"Okay," Draco shrugged, and went straight to the point. "I expect you asked me here because you wanted to talk about something more serious than my relationship with Harry, anyway."

"Well," the Headmaster glared. "Actually your relationship with Harry has quite a lot to do with our talk."

"Oh, really?" Draco sneered. 

Dumbledore looked at him with his deep blue eyes. "I wanted you here because I wanted to talk about yesterday's Dementor attack."

"Hmh."

"I am fully aware that it was organized by your father, Lucius Malfoy."

Draco looked bored, "And…?"

"I was hoping that you might be able to clear out to me what its full purpose was. Were they after Mr. Potter?"

"No, they were after the Santa Claus," Draco drawled, sarcastically. 

"Mr. Malfoy, you will show me some respect," Dumbledore warned. "This is not an official interrogation. The only reason I am asking you this question is because want is to secure the safety and welfare of this school and its students."

"How very righteous of you, Headmaster."

"Mr. Malfoy… I must ask you if there is something you know about this attack and wish to tell me. Surely, you are aware of the consequences should a similar attack in future work out just as planned. For, I am certain of it," Dumbledore added, sounding really tired, "Many attacks are yet to follow this first one, someday very soon."

"Look, I know where we stand, okay?" Draco sneered to the old wizard. "I know the war is very close. I know Harry is in mortal danger. Who do you think I am, huh? Some oblivious flesh-eating slug in the school cabbage field? I am sure I don't have to remind you, Headmaster, than I am indeed the son of that very person who initiated the yesterday's attack. All my life, I have been taught vigilance and strong mind, been raised to encounter the upcoming war with a clever, cunning mind and a series of deadly hexes, black magic downright burned in my flesh. I see no need to hide these facts from you, for I am sure you have been aware of them for the best part of the past six years –otherwise I would not be here right now, would I? Yes, I am a dark wizard, just like everybody thinks I am. But I am not completely stupid. I know that following the Dark Lord is not necessarily the only viable option in this world anymore. I know there is a certain someone who can offer me so much more, if I allow him."

Dumbledore fidgeted his beard, listening carefully, which annoyed Draco to no extent.

"I know what the situation is," Draco drawled. "But surely you cannot expect me to betray my own family, even if it was for this school and its wellbeing, can you? –Not even if it was for the whole wizarding world and its wellbeing. You cannot expect me to freely give you _proof_ of my _own father_ being a Death Eater?"

Dumbledore leaned backwards in his chair, and examined Draco's face. There was a long silence, while Dumbledore searched Draco's silvery eyes, and Draco glowered defiantly back at the greatest wizard in the world.

"Very well," Dumbledore finally said, smiling a bit. "You are dismissed, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco leapt up from his seat, and excited the room.

**

"Harry," a soft female voice asked tentatively behind the black haired Gryffindor, who was looking outside the Gryffindor common room window.

Harry turned, coming face to face with Hermione. Instantly, he shielded his emotions, his eyes blank and his face a mask of indifference.

"Hermione," he said from between gritted teeth.

The girl fingered her curly hair, and looked down. "Don't do that, Harry. Don't shut me out. Please."

"Excuse me, Miss Hermione, but it was _you_ who walked away from _me_ yesterday," Harry said, not entirely capable of blocking the bitterness from his voice.

"I am sorry," Hermione whispered, on the verge of tears.

"Well, that's not exactly my problem, is it?" Harry sneered. "Be sorry, for all that I care."

"Can't you forgive me?" Hermione now raised tear-rimmed eyes at Harry. "I was… I was completely beside me. It was the shock, that's all. I mean… I don't disapprove of you and Malf… you and Draco."

Harry looked bored and turned back to the window, "It doesn't matter. I don't need your approval."

Hermione took a deep, shivering breath and touched Harry's forearm gently. Harry tensed instantly.

"Harry…"

"Hermione," Harry turned and took Hermione's chin between his fingers, turning the girl's head upwards rather harshly. But when he saw how desperate his friend was, Harry's grip turned gentle.

"What happened to us, Harry?" Hermione whispered, the tears now freely running down her cheeks.

"I don't know," Harry sighed, leaning against the wall, feeling suddenly very tired, "I just… I wish… Well, I don't know _what_ I wish."

"Have you seen Ron?"

"Yeah," Harry shook his head, smiling. "We had a fight."

"Figures."

"He knows how to behave now."

"Listen, Harry… I am sorry that I reacted the way I did, yesterday. I cried the whole night, I felt so horrible. I should've been there to support you, but what did I do?" She laughed nervously. "I let my old antagonism and hatred towards Malfoy cloud my mind, and I really did not see how you suffered. I didn't see that you love Malfoy. I did not believe it… And when I finally swallowed my pride and prejudices, and came to find you, to apologise… You were not there. You weren't in your dorm room."

"No, I spent the night in the Slytherin dorms with Draco."

"I guessed as much," Hermione said, walking closer to the window and gazing down at the grass fields through the glass. "But you know, Harry, if you'd been a bit more open… If you'd let Ron and I know about your boyfriend a bit earlier… It wouldn't have come as a shock… We could've prepared ourselves…"

"You had your own problems, and I had mine," Harry said. "But let's not talk about the mistakes and deeds bygone. I forgive you, Hermione. I knew you wouldn't really hate me for this."

"I could never hate you," the girl said, and dashed forwards, embracing Harry with all her might. "I'm glad that all our secrets are out now. I'm glad we're all together again."

"Yeah." Harry returned the hug, and smiled. "Imagine, for a minute here, I thought I wouldn't need you and Ron in my life. I believed I could survive on my own with only Draco by my side. But now… Now I know my life would've been empty without you."

"As long as Malfoy doesn't call me Mudblood, I'm fine with him," Hermione said. 

"Sounds fair," Harry let go of the girl and beamed down at her. "But if he _does_ call you that, I won't interfere. You're free to hex him as long as you don't castrate him."

"Harry!" Hermione laughed, and playfully hit him on in the stomach. 

Right then, a weird commotion disturbed the peace of the red and gold common room, right in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Malfoy!" shrieked a third year Gryffindor from her seat by the fire.

"What the hell…?" gasped Colin.

"What's _he_ doing here?" snarled Dennis.

"Glad you're all so happy to see me," Draco sneered at the young Gryffindors. Seeing Harry and Hermione standing by the window, he cockily strolled towards them though a crowd of horrified Gryffindor younger years.

"Hey lover," he greeted Harry, and then nodded to Hermione. "Granger."

Hermione looked at him suspiciously. "How did you get in, Malfoy?"

"He flirted with the Fat Lady," Harry said, accusingly.

Draco confirmed this with a sweet smile, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"I can't help myself," Draco sighed, overly dramatically, "I'm in serious need of quality time."

"Harry, have you been ignoring your boyfriend?" Dean emerged between Hermione and Draco, and crossed his arms, mock-glaring at Harry.

"I most _certainly_ _haven't_!"

"Yes, he's been ignoring me all day!" Draco whined, batting his lashes at Dean. "He even jumped that Weasel today, and wrestled on the ground with _him_, but not _me_! No… I'm cast aside like a cheap toy and left forgotten!"

"As if! Listen now, you attention-seeking Drama Queen, we've been having…" 

"You've had a _fist-fight_ with Ron?" Hermione interrupted, intentionally, not wanting to hear _exactly_ how many times Harry and Draco had had sex that day.

"Yeah, and you should see Weasel's black eye," Draco grinned, "I bet it's greenish already."

"Harry!" Hermione cried out, crossing her arms.

"Hey, it's only fair," Dean said, "Harry gave him the black eye only because Ron had punched _me_ before. As in revenge, you know."

"So mature," Hermione huffed. "By the way, where _is_ Ron?"

"Don't know, don't care," Draco waved his hand, "Come, Har, we need to run."

"Oh… right," Harry said, remembering the meeting with Blaise Zabini and the Slytherins. "See you later, Herm, Dean, I've got something to do with Draco."

Dean only winked, and sauntered back to Neville and Seamus who were playing Exploding Snap. Hermione rolled her eyes and sat down on the armchair close to the fire. To his delight and before the portrait of the Fat Lady closed, Harry saw Ginny sitting on Hermione's lap, pressing her forehead to her girlfriend's.

So, the peace had finally settled down on earth. If you left Voldemort out of the picture, that is.

**

"What's the time?" Harry asked.

"Twenty-five to six," Draco replied.

"We've got plenty of time, then," Harry frowned. "Why don't we have a snack or something?"

Draco didn't say anything, grabbing Harry by his sleeve to tag him along.

"Draco? Where are you taking me?"

When Draco did not reply, Rune lifted one of its heads from Draco's collar and hissed, "As I said, he's romantic. He's gonna surprise you with something really sweet, I guess."

Harry looked at the serpent incredulously, and hissed back, "I hope he doesn't. I can't stand roses or other flowers, and I really _abhor_ candle-light dinners, too."

Draco looked at his boyfriend, quirking a brow, "What are you saying?"

"Just talking to our insolent snake," Harry shrugged. "Since you don't seem to be in chat-mode."

"No, I've thought of a better use for my mouth," Draco smirked and pushed Harry against the wall. They were now in a rarely used corridor on the third floor. "Pants down."

"W-what?" Harry gasped, as he felt Draco pull his belt open. 

"Pants. Down." Draco repeated. 

"B--But you… You don't…" Harry protested, but Draco was too quick, opening his fly. "Ohmygod…"

Harry was literally swiped off his feet when he felt Draco's lips encircle his member, his blood rushing to his crotch instantly. The mere thought that Draco Malfoy was giving him head – something he usually did not do, not even to him – made his mouth go dry and his head swirl. And when he looked downwards…

Draco teased his hard flesh with the tip of his tongue, taking the whole length of it into his mouth. Harry whimpered and collapsed limply against the stone wall, ficting his hands into the the blond hair. 

Draco's eyes were sparkling with mirth, laughing at him.

"Yesss… Oh, gods, yess…." Harry gasped, when Draco sucked forcefully, his head bobbing rapidly up and down Harry's length. Harry hissed, his hips involuntarily bucking forwards to meet Draco's mouth.

Draco retreated and licked the tip of his cock, "Too much sex, hmm?"

Harry violently shoved Draco's head back against himself, burying his cock in Draco's throat, hard enough to make Draco gag. "Don't tease me," he breathed. "Just suck it… yes…"

Harry's head moved from side to side on its own volition when Draco doubled his efforts. It didn't took Draco long to make Harry come, whimpering, and Draco swallowed everything. Harry sank to the floor, on to his knees, beside Draco, and buried his head in the Slytherin's shoulder, breathing rapidly. 

"Damn I love you…"

**

Harry looked around in wonder. The White Chamber, the anteroom of the new, magnificent common room, was bathing eerily in the torchlight, the whiteness of the décor glowing ethereally in the shadows. It was tranquil and peaceful everywhere –only a few Ravenclaws were sitting on the sofas quite close to the entrance, absorbed in some kind of homework.

"Come on, they're here," Draco tugged Harry's sleeve, pulling him towards the darkest corner of the room. "Behind that monster statue."

"Really, what a cheery place to meet," Harry grinned, in a totally funny mood after what he just experienced ten minutes ago.

"Wipe that stupid grin off your face, Har, this is serious."

In the corner, sitting on the cream-colored couches and armchairs, pearly pillows and soft white divans, were at least twelve Slytherins, dressed in the pitch-black. Their sombre forms contrasted elegantly against their fair background, as did their sombre expressions. Harry recognised nearly all of them – Draco's classmates, as well as Montague's friends from the upper year. Harry noticed that Draco's best friend and the leader of the little gathering, Blaise Zabini, was engaged in a conversation with somebody who was bent over the table to examine some sort of parchment.

"Evening, everyone," Draco drawled, casually wandering to sit on a divan closest to Blaise's seat.

Harry followed his boyfriend, and nodded his greetings to everyone, as well. To his surprise, he then saw Ronald Weasley's head emerge from behind Blaise's shoulder. 

"Ron!" Harry gasped, utterly surprised.

"What's _he_ doing here?" asked Draco, frowning disdainfully in Ron's direction.

"He's here for a reason," Blaise snapped, before anybody could start an argument. "I invited him."

Ron looked a bit uncomfortable under Draco and Harry's scutinising stares. "Zabini said I would be useful."

"Great! Let the whole school know, and we're sure to be victorious!" Draco snarled.

Ron glared at him. "I know how to keep my mouth shut."

"Oh, really?" Millicent Bulstrode cut in. "Tell yourself another one."

"Yes, really!" Ron spat, whirling his head at the Slytherin girl's direction. "I've been loyal to Harry for the best part of the last five and a half years, in which time I've learned to keep secrets, thank you very much! You can't even begin to imagine all the stuff I've been through with Harry and 'Mione!"

"Calm down, Ron." Harry chuckled, and snuggled comfortably in the depths of the fluffy white divan. "For the records, Ron really _is_ reliable if he must."

Draco sulked, crossing his arms and leaning away from Harry, tugging his lower lip out. "What about the fact that he abandoned you and your friendship when he found out about me? Have you forgotten all about that?"

"We settled that this morning," Harry said in a calming tone, "when we fought by the greenhouses."

"So, let's not waste time with this useless chinwag, but let's get started," Blaise huffed. "Ron, shut it. Theodore, sit down. Mary-Ann, don't even think about it. Rodriquez, if you would please tell our guests what this is all about."

Harry and Ron followed closely, and Draco yawned elegantly behind his palm, as Rodriquez Montague stood up and walked to the huge, porcelain table that was standing in the middle of the seats. Montague spread some more parchments on it and cleared his throat. 

"Fellow Slytherins, and fell… er… Gryffindor guests, the time to decide what we want from our lives has come, finally. The War is getting closer, and none of us shall stay unaffected by it. Eventually, we will be asked to choose sides. The Light side, or the Dark side, as it is."

Here, Montague exchanged a meaningful look with Blaise, before continuing.

"Harry… and Wease… Ron," he hesitated. "I speak on behalf of every Slytherin in this room. Therefore, I will ask you to listen to me very carefully because what I'm about to say is quite heavy stuff."

"I'm dying of excitement," Draco dully remarked, earning a poke in the ribs from Goyle, who was sitting in an armchair behind him.

Montague addressed Harry and Ron again, ignoring the insolent blonde's comment. "We Slytherins are used to hearing the words 'Slytherin' and 'evil' quite often in the same sentence, uttered especially by you Gryffindorks… er Gryffin_dors_. You think that because we belong to the so called 'Snake House' we're all evil, scheming, ruthless and violent supporters of the Dark Lord." Montague sighed. "However, that is _so_ not true."

"What's this, some kind of yay!-let-us-befriend–speech?" Ron raised a brow, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"No," Montague smirked. "Definitely not anything like that. My intention is solely to point out to you what being a Slytherin really means."

"I'm dying of excitement," Ron said, mimicking Draco's previous outburst, which amused Harry.

Montague, however, was not told off by this. "Might I remind you, _Ronald_," Montague sneered and Draco snorted, "that instead of the word 'evil', the Sorting Hat has provided you with much more accurate describing words for us Slytherins than the ever-so-boring 'evil'. Does the word 'ambitious' ring any of your bells? And I might add that 'ambitious' is a slightly different adjective than 'evil'. You can check this in your dictionary if you wish. You'll find it amid the words starting with the letter A: _Ambition_."

Draco chuckled now audibly, and Harry had to slap him gently on the head. However, Harry was simultaneously grinning at the flush that rose to Ron's cheekbones himself, which resulted in the fact that Draco laughed even harder.

"Your _point_ is, Montague?" Ron groused, his arms crossed, trying to speak over Draco's laughter.

"Ambition is what we Slytherins are known for. Ambition is the factor that affects our choices. Ambition –we _define ourselves_ through that word. And _our_ ambition – I mean this very group that has gathered here tonight - _our_ ambition is self-seeking at best. Our year class, and the one below, have adopted a new depth of this word. To us, ambition is _surviving_. It prevents us from doing things we don't believe in, or things that might lead us to a sticky end. As such, it also prevents us from making the same stupid mistakes our parents once did." Montague paused, and turned his hazel eyes straight at Harry. "Our ambition… It prevents us from following Lord Voldemort."

Suddenly, something very tender began to grow in Harry's chest, which he cursed not to be emotion. Draco noticed this, and protectively pulled Harry closer to his chest, covering the Gryffindor's tear-rimmed eyes by pressing Harry's face against his shoulder.

"Oooh! The big ugly evil Slytherins wanna _follow_ you," Draco cooed in Harry's ear.

Now, Harry could not help bursting out crying. The relief was so enormous. All the fears he had bottled up inside during the weeks. Fears that he might lose Draco to Voldemort . Things he had not wanted to even think about. Things he had denied himself. Fears. Everything… They all now seemed to fade into non-existence quicker than Neville's memory.

"I've never seen Potter cry," remarked Carlos Warrington, smoking a lemon cigarette on the other side of the table. "Hmh."

"Neither have I, but I think this is kind of cute." Mary-Ann grinned lopsidedly, staring eagerly at the hero boy that was curled tightly in Draco's arms, sobbing.

"He's just moved," announced Draco, his voice affectionate. "Montague's such a good sucker. See?" He gestured at Harry's shaking shoulders. "Rod, did you _have_ to play Shakespeare once again?"

Everybody chuckled with amusement – even Ron. 

"So… what you're trying to tell us is that… you'll be on our side when the War comes here?" Ron asked. "You won't follow the Dark Lord?"

"Yes. But actually, we had something way more productive in mind," Blaise said, now taking the lead. "We Slytherins don't do anything half way, you see. In for a sickle, in for a galleon." 

Ron gave Blaise the look he usually gave Hermione when they were disagreeing on something. "No, I do not see, Zabini. But perhaps you could show me." 

"Yeah." Montague smiled. "Let's show the Weasel…er _Ron_, and Harry what exactly we have in mind." 

"Our idea is this." Blaise started to walk around the table, picking up an apple from a basket that lay on top of it, and tossing the fruit from one hand to another. "We want Harry and Draco to kill the Dark Lord next weekend. And you are going to help them out, Ronald Weasley." 

"W-w-what?" Ron sputtered, leaning forwards in his chair.

"Er… come again?" Harry's head snapped up and collided with Draco's jaw. 

"Ouch! Watch it, Potterbird!" Draco hissed, along with Rune, who was yet again curled around Draco's neck.

"Shut up, whiner," Harry placed a hand impatiently over Draco's mouth, sealing it. "You were saying, Blaise, Rodriquez?" 

But before either of the so-called leaders could answer, another voice joined in.

"We. Want. You. To. Kill. Voldie!" Pansy beamed from her spot on the floor, where she was sitting on the pillows with Millicent. "Isn't that lovely!"

Millicent squealed with excitement, rubbing her hands together in glee.

"You're all rampant nuts," Ron said weakly, searching for support from Harry. "Totally barking rampant fucking mad bonkers."

"Don't try to be clever, Weasley," yawned Tracey Davies. "It doesn't suit you."

"And how exactly are we going to kill the Dark Lord, again?" Harry sat straighter on the white sofa and interrupted Ron's retort. "Are we just going to owl him and ask him for a duel?"

"Of course not, you twat," Millicent huffed, and then smirked, which didn't look very good on her. "We have it all planned out here, so pay attention."

Both Ron and Harry raised their brows, and even Draco was starting to feel real interest, having not listened too closely before.

"So, the letter you made me send to Lucius was not just a momentary whim, Blaise?"

"Indeed, it was not." The girl smiled. "It was an invitation."

"Invitation? What letter?" Harry asked Draco. 

"Blaise made me write a letter to my father where I requested the Dark Lord's presence at the Manor on Saturday."

"What? Wait! This is going to take place in Malfoy's house?" Ron gagged. "No way Harry and I are entering _that_ place!"

"Shut it, Ron," Harry growled, and then turned to Draco. "At the Manor? Are you nuts, baby? Asking Voldemort to visit your home? What about your family?" 

Draco looked fixedly in Harry's eyes, and finally realised that the final scene was indeed about to happen under the roof of Malfoy Manor. He also realised that the final scene hardly would be an appropriate show for a two-year-old girl, taken that all such events throughout history thus far had been rather gory and violent. 

"Blaise," he said hoarsely, "I think it's too dangerous. Hailie's at home. I don't want her to get hurt."

Everybody was silent, clearly pondering this issue in their minds. They all knew Hailie, of course –the little monstrous addition to the Malfoy family. Draco turned his eyes at his friends, locking his silvery gaze with each of them in turn.

"Guys, I know this is our only chance to defeat the Dark Lord – now that we have the element of surprise on our side. But I'd like you to know - this will lead to the destruction of my family."

"Oh, isn't ickle daddykins going to be happy with his darling son anymore?" Ron asked, sneering. 

"Shut the _fuck_ up, Weasel. You know nothing." Draco's stare was dark and crushing.

"Well, what _are_ you saying, then?" Ron gulped, and tried another sneer; he was too proud to be scared of a Malfoy.

"I'm saying that there will be no 'ickle daddykins' to say what he thinks about me after this. My father. And my mother. They are both going to die."

"What?" The fine hairs on Harry's neck stood on end as he looked at Draco. "They're going to… what?"

"I… I've seen it… Actually, I've seen it twice. In Trelawney's crystal ball." Draco swallowed a thick lump down his throat, which he hoped nobody noticed.

"Trelawney… She did say that you are a Diviner, during our last lesson," Harry remembered.

"So it's really true," Ron marvelled, looking at Draco along his freckled nose.

"Do you know how rare that gift is?" shrieked Pansy, again, looking as if Christmas and her birthday were on the same day. "Did you hear it, everyone? Our Draco is a _diviner_!" 

Anguish was shining from Draco's beautiful, grey eyes. "Yes, I am sure everybody heard that I'm a bloody diviner. And I have just bloody foreboded my family's destruction. Anyone who wants to have a share?" 

"Calm down, Draco." Harry tried to embrace the slightly shuddering blonde, but frowned when he was pushed away. Harry had never seen Draco so unsettled.

"My father will kill my mother when my mother is trying to protect me from my father," Draco continued, glaring straight at Pansy.

After an almost embarassing silence, Tracey lifted her brows. "Why would your mother feel the need to protect you from your father?" she asked. "I thought you and your father were at rather good terms with each other. Are you sure those weren't just Trelawney's perfumes meddling with your brain?"

"No, it was real, I know it." Draco massaged his temples. "And my father will try to kill me." 

"Will he succeed?" whispered Mary-Ann, making the atmosphere almost spooky with her wide-eyed expression and quiet voice.

"I… I do not think so… But I'm not sure. It went rather blurry after that."

"Or maybe he's trying to kill _Potter_," Montague suggested. "It's a possiblitiy, if we're going to use the Polyjuice." 

"Polyjuice?" Harry asked, but everybody ignored him.

"Well that's even worse!" Draco shouted, reacting to Montague's remark. "Hmm, but it _would_ explain why I was crying in the vision." 

"As if you'd never cry, Malfoy," Ron mocked. 

"Actually, he doesn't," Harry offered. "Malfoys don't cry. Don't you remember what Lucius said to Draco's little sister? That day when they were visiting the castle?" 

Dumbly, Ron nodded and looked elsewhere, not interested in dwelling on the subject any longer. What a stupid rule! Malfoys were all vain and stupid bloody ponces. 

"Actually, I did cry once," Draco whispered to Harry, so that no-one else heard. "When I had heard you'd cheated on me. After the party last Friday."

Harry looked straight into Draco's eyes, those pools of mercury that had so often made him feel both hatred and passion. He was just about to say something really sappy when Montague interrupted him. 

"Tell us about your visions, Draco," the Slytherin seventh year said. "We might be able to prepare ourselves better if we new what to expect." 

Draco straightened up, and took the cigarette offered to him. Goyle lit it, and Draco found out it tasted like cream liqueur. He inhaled the smoke deeply, savouring the soft taste on top of his tongue before starting to describe what he had seen in the crystal ball. 

"I'm in my bedroom. I'm looking around, satisfied, when somebody knocks on the door. And I get all insecure and frightened – which, I might add, is nothing like me. Anyway…" Draco took another pull, "The entrant is my father. He comes closer, looking very fond and proud of me. But when he touches my shoulder, I flinch away, as if his touch was burning, and then, he gets suspicious. His mouth is still curled in a smile, but I can see in his eyes that he is very, very suspicious…"

Everybody was listening silently, the only voice, soft and low, coming from Draco. Mary-Ann looked even freakier than before, shivering with excitement.

"He grabs my wrist and smoothes my left inner arm. His fingers are scorchingly cold, and again, I flinch away. He looks at me, oddly… He tells me it's time to receive the Dark Mark. And I… I hiss at him, as if I was scared of him." 

Draco glanced over at Harry, pondering Montague's words in his mind. Was his vision really about himself, or was it about Potter? Harry returned Draco's glance, his green eyes shining in the gentle darkness. Draco felt cold.

"And then… My mother enters the room," he forced himself to continue. "She looks very nervous, which is very weird, since my mother is never nervous. I turn to my father again and say something to him… I don't know what… but then things start getting very dirty. My father is furious and hits me in the face. Several times. And I start to cry. Which, I might mention, disturbs me very much, taken that my father's been hitting me hundreds of times before and I've never before cried. Hmh, anyway…"

Harry looked horrified, but could not say anything since Draco had already continued. 

"My father's yelling at me as I'm on my knees on the floor, covered in my own blood. I see my mother, and she is crying as well. And I tell you, she cries even more rarely than I do. Fucking weird. And then… My father raises his wand. I don't know for sure what he's about to cast on me, but my guess would be cruciatus. Or the killing curse. Wait… I think it cleared out to be cruciatus." 

Draco looked contemplative, his cigarette having burnt halfway to ashes by itself. Goyle reached for an ashtray and helped Draco shake off the grey powder. Draco took no notice.

"Yes… Father tries to cast cruciatus on me… but then my mother interferes. She snatches the wand from my father's fingers, taking the full blow of the curse on her own abdomen… and she throws the wand away with her last energy. Oh… My father is furious. He takes a dagger from his pocket and stabs my mother between her shoulder blades and calls my mother a bitch or something. And my mother dies." 

Draco lowered his gaze, his long black lashes shadowing his eyes. He felt how Harry was staring at him, hell, everybody was, but Harry's stare was plain burning.

"How horrible," Pansy said with trembling voice, breaking the silence.

"There's more," Draco said determinately, not wanting all the girls in the room to burst out crying. "The second part confuses me even more. Just hear it out and say what you think of it." 

"You don't have to tell us if it's too difficult," Millicent said. Draco noticed she was holding hands with both Pansy and Tracey.

"Don't be silly, woman," Draco snapped, haughtily raising his chin. "This is not difficult, just confusing. And, as you know, I hate to be confused." 

"So tell us," Montague encouraged, and started to examine his sleeve. He knew that ignoring Draco was the best way to keep him talking this kind of things.

"The second part includes me and Potter," Draco started. "Here, I have come to realise that Hailie is also in the room, hiding under my four-poster. I see her clearly from my spot on the floor where I am huddled in a heap, helpless, my wounds bleeding heavily. But then the confusion starts. Suddenly, it is not blood that I am covered with, it is something else… Indefinable… And my father raises his blade as to kill me there and then. And I cry again – which I don't admit will happen in reality, though. And yes, then there's suddenly another person in the room. Harry. He's hovering over my crumpled form, protecting me from my father's hatred. I don't hear what they are saying to each other, but then Potter raises his wand and says the unforgivable words… Avada Kedavra… and my father is dead." 

"I would never…" Harry started, but Draco shut his mouth with an angry glare. 

"Then Harry kneels down beside me, and takes me into his arms. And I feel relieved. I'm not even mad at him that he killed my father. It is all so unclear…" 

Draco's voice died down and he conjured a glass of red wine for himself. 

"S-so both your father and mother will… die," Blaise finally said, unsure about her words. 

"Yes," Draco said, meeting her eyes. "They will die." 

"And… are you okay with this?" Montague asked, casually.

"Are you fucking _mad_?" Ron shouted. "How can you even ask something like that? Merlin, how could Malfoy _possibly_ be _okay_ with this?" 

"I'm okay with this," Draco stated, his voice hard enough to cut through diamond.

Complete silence fell over the chamber. The girls indeed started weeping soundless tears, and the boys tried not to cough too audibly.

"Si pudiera ser tu heroe, Si pudiera ser tu Dios, que salvarte a ti mil veces, puede ser mi salvacion..." Montague started to hum silently. 

"Shut it, Rodriquez," Draco rolled his eyes, yet giving a short laugh. "I don't believe in fear. I don't believe in fate, either. I don't believe in anything I can't break. _And_ I hate Muggle music."

"Draco, are you sure that you…?" Harry began, but Draco again shut him with a burning stare. Harry just nodded and sighed. 

"Okay, Blazing flame, let us hear the rest of your plan," Draco sipped his wine. 

Blaise smirked, and picked up one of the stray parchments that were sprawled on the table. "Harry, you may not have heard, but Vin and Greg here suggested the other day that we could use the Banishing Charm against the Dark Lord." 

Harry raised his brows, but did not say anything, so Blaise continued. "Thus, we were wondering what would be the best place to banish Voldie. Subsequently, we realised that Hell would be a good place, but as it is, we do not know the runic address of it." 

"I bet Hermione would know that," Ron put in. 

"We should keep this to ourselves," Pansy scowled. "The less people know about our plans, the better."

"Wouldn't the runic address to Argus Filch's bedroom be close enough?" Mary-Ann wanted to lighten the atmosphere with a bad joke. "Come on, I am sure, if we can accept Ronald Weasley into our group we can accept Granger, too." 

"But she's a Mudblood!" said Tracey, disgusted. 

"Shut it, Davies," Harry growled. "Unless any of _us_ can find the address, I am ready to accept Hermione among us." 

"Alright, fine." Blaise spread her arms in frustration. "Shall we go on? Now… Millicent suggested this morning that we should take benefit of the Polyjuice potion we are currently brewing in our Potions class. Meaning, we're changing you two into each other." She pointed her finger at Harry and Draco. 

"Ah, so _that_ is what you were talking about earlier." Harry understood. "You think it could be _me_ who Lucius's trying to kill in Draco's visions because I've taken Polyjuice to change my appearance to resemble that of Draco's." 

"Well, yes," Montague muttered. "We all think that it's the most important thing to keep _you_ safe, Potter. _You_ are the one who will have to bring the Dark Lord down, and therefore, we should make every effort in our reach to keep you safe. And what could be safer than to enter Malfoy Manor as Draco, the new pet of the Dark Lord?" 

Nobody could say anything in the contrary, so, Blaise continued. 

"Hear now… The particular runic pattern for banishing that we are talking about tonight, should always be attached to an item. A floor stone, a candlestick or Professor Snape's best cauldron. And yesterday, Pansy came up with the idea that this item could be Draco's dandy sabre."

"Hmph," Draco sounded sceptical, "But how can we trick Voldemort into touching it? And besides, I'm not even sure I _want_ that ugly beast touching it. It is a family heirloom." 

"This is where it gets complicated." Blaise frowned. "Basically, it will have to happen amidst a sword fight. The weapon must be thrown to Voldie so that he's tricked into catching it, and… Well… As we have already decided that it will activate upon his touch, he will be sent away directly after he has caught the sabre."

"And which one of us is to fight against him?" Harry asked. 

"Why, /you/, of course." Blaise raised her brows. 

"But if I look like Draco, how can that possibly be reasonable?" 

"Well, duh, of course you have to look like Draco – then the Dark Lord won't suspect anything!"

"Well, _of course_ he's going to suspect something the very second _Draco__ Malfoy _starts a sword fight with him!" Harry retorted. 

"Well, _whatever_!" Blaise yelled. "If you have a better plan, then do _tell_ us!"

After a few seconds of silence, Harry picked up Rune from Draco's shoulder and started to pet it, mindlessly. "I don't know," he finally said, biting his lip. "It is a good plan you've got here. But still, I'm sure there's something we're missing. There must be something we haven't taken into consideration. Why don't we go through this again, trying to find some _logic_ this time?" 

**

That night, Draco woke up to a cold breeze that waved his bed curtains wildly. He jumped up from the bed, instincts strained, and noticed that the only window of the room was shattered on the floor, broken in to thousands of little pieces. 

"Malum? Is it you?" he asked the shadowy chamber, looking for his father's eagle owl. 

But it certainly was not the eagle who suddenly sat on his shoulder. No. This was something exceptionally heavy and smelling very much like sulphur. Sharp, ice cold claws penetrated his skin through the silken pyjama top, and ashy vapour landed to dance in the air in front of his eyes from the nostrils of the beast that was perching on his shoulders. 

Slowly, Draco turned his eyes at the creature, meeting a pair of gleaming, fire-yellow reptile eyes, looking back at him from a face that was blacker than any starless night. The weight of the creature had already started to hurt Draco's shoulder, and he felt the need to sit down – yet he did not do such a thing, being a proud Malfoy.

"Are you Draco Malfoy?" the beast asked, with a strange language that Draco, however, knew well.

"Well, obviously," Draco snarled back, twisting his tongue to the new language. "Would you please get your fucking claws off me? You're breaking my shirt."

With a loud hiss, the black creature slid down from Draco's shoulder and onto Draco's desk. Now that Draco was able to see the intruder properly, he noticed it was a beautiful black dragon wyrmling, a freshly hatched nestling of a Hungarian Horntail. Shining, sharp spikes were forming a dangerous ridge over its backbone, and it spread its huge, bat-like wings as if it was showing off. A small puff of ash and fire escaped its nostrils again, and it looked at Draco calculatingly. 

_"Viekas hän on, oikea Luihuinen, vaan sinuako haen, sitä tiedä en. Sanovat, on katseesi terässä tikarin, hopeinen, kaikista pistävin. Aurasi tiedän, se on kaikkivaltius, lumihankien hopea, tähtien kimallus. Löytänytkö sinut olen, sinut, joka otat komennon, pimeyden herran, haastajan lapselle auringon?"_

"Very pretty," Draco said, leaning against his bed's pillar, propping his other foot back against the wood and crossing his arms. "Who has given you that description of me?" 

"The centaursss of the Forbidden Foressst ," the dragon said. "They've sssensed that you are a diviner." 

"Oh, yeah?" Draco snorted sarcastically. 

"Yesss. And our Lord has heard them. Our Lord sssent me to collect you tonight. It is time." 

Draco's eyes sharpened abruptly. "Time for what?" 

"Your Call." The black creature breathed fire. "Your Call is tonight." 

"But… I thought it wouldn't be until next Saturday," Draco swallowed. 

"No…" the dragon sounded as if it were laughing, "Our Lord wantssss you… And he wantsss you… _tonight_…"

…TBC….


	27. Burning

A/N: I want to thank you **Rotschopf** and **Dystopic** for being the most wonderful betas in the world. Love you girls.

A/N II: Important! I have changed the plot so that Sirius Black is dead to make this story fit the canons better. I have changed his and Harry's correspondence to Harry/Remus correspondence.

**27. Burning**

"Wonder where Draco is," said Vincent Crabbe, pulling a large green T-shirt over his head, gesturing towards the empty four-poster next to his own bed.

"Hmm, I think he's already up, eating breakfast." Goyle shrugged, combing his short hair in front of the mirror and looking dumber than ever.

"Or he's with Potter," Theodore Nott smirked, knotting his tie. "Bet he sneaked into the wonderboy's dorm in the middle of the night."

All three boys laughed cheerfully, put their shoes on and took off towards the Great Hall's breakfast tables.

As soon as the door was closed behind them, a shower of tiny, sharp glass flakes landed on the stony dormitory floor, gliding across the grey surface like pieces of ice. The only small window of the room, the one which usually let Draco's owls in, had once against burst broken. But the grey eagle that crawled inside, feathers covered in blood, was neither Malum nor Nocens, this time.

Tiredly, the eagle flew into the dungeon room, wanting to get away from the piercing stare of the morning sun. Slowly and in pain, it made its way towards Draco Malfoy's bed, crippled and half unconscious. When its claws came in touch with the black silk of the sheets, it slumped down and allowed its feathers to transform into messy silver hair and pale, bruised milky skin. Soon, there was a sixteen-year-old beautiful boy lying on the bed. Nearly naked, and nearly dead.

Draco Malfoy shivered with cold. His clothes were all tattered; actually, he wasn't wearing anything but a pair of ragged trousers. His hair was a muddy, rubicund chaos, a mixture of cruor and ashes. His red-rimmed eyes and broken lipped accentuated his face which was grimed with filth and even more blood, just like his chest, stomach and the rest of the lithe body. Nasty bruises were silently forming on his neck, wrists and legs, and he had several small but deep cuts all over his upper arms, where the black dragon wyrmling had held him in place.

But none of these injuries hurt the young man as much as the one that was burned on his left inner arm. There, in the form of a vicious skull with a snake crawling out of its mouth that was still lingering in black, was the Dark Mark of Lord Voldemort.

_"Draco… No! NO! Please don't… Please… It hurts so much, Draco… Please, let me live…"_

Draco jerked violently, hearing the teary, desperate words of his cousin, Nymphadora Tonks, ringing in his ears yet again . He looked down at himself and found that his right hand was clutching his new, morbid tattoo tightly, as if wanting to shut up its snake-tongued mouth. He ventured a shuddering stare at the rest of himself. Blood. Dried blood. Fresh blood. Blood was e verywhere. And Draco knew… Not all of it was even his own.

_"Muwhahahahaha…Just like your father, you will follow me, follow my every command…You will fight for me… You will kill for me… You will DIE for me… Muwahahahaha… Crucio!"_

Draco winced and bit his lower lip hard. It started to bleed again. His crystallised eyes filled with tears, and this time, he allowed them.

"I'm so sorry, my love…" he sobbed, curling into a tight, shaking ball.

**

Some floors above, in the noisy Great Hall, Harry Potter was having his breakfast with his re-aquainted best friends, Ron and Hermione. True, there was more strained quietude than joyous chatter, but at least, all of them were trying their best to restore their shaken comradeship. It was perhaps the hardest for Ron, since he needed to swallow his bitterness towards Hermione and Ginny. Plus he needed to accept that Harry's boyfriend was none other than Draco the Ferret Malfoy. Therefore, he mainly kept nodding and smiling and not speaking because he didn't want to say anything offensive by accident. 

For Hermione, it was possibly the easiest. She was naturally a reasonable young woman and saw the happenings in a bigger picture than the two boys. She was a little sad because she'd let Ron down so harshly, but her happiness with Ginny got the better of the miserable feelings she might otherwise have been feeling for her ex-boyfriend. And when it came to Harry, Hermione reminded herself that she did not know her friend's boyfriend, that blond Slytherin brat, enough to make any final judgements about their relationship. She trusted Harry's perception, so she decided to shrug the matter off of her shoulders, deciding to observe the situation from a distance.

For Harry, the whole reunion was rather confusing. He was happy that he was surrounded by his friends again, happy that he had not lost them with his childish, secretive behaviour. On the other hand, he was a bit uncomfortable. He felt that, even though they all wished the things return to normal, there would always be this deep, black bottomless pit spreading between each of them. The virginal, blue-eyed faith was gone -none of them trusted each other anymore. And what made Harry even more miserable was that he knew that _he_ had started it all. If only he would not have been so distant… If only he wouldn't have allowed Draco's charms to mesmerize him so completely…

"Where is Malfoy, by the way?" asked Hermione, glancing at the Slytherin table and then at Harry.

Harry shook his head, frowning. "I don't know, Hermione."

"The breakfast's nearly over," Ron pointed out, but didn't say anything further because the next thing in his mind would've been along the lines of 'but I really wouldn't mind if he died of hunger'.

"He's probably decided to skip," Harry sulked.

"Why so displeased about it, Harry?" Hermione asked. "This certainly isn't the first time."

"He should eat," Harry said, starting to pile some ham sandwiches onto a large napkin.

Ginny, who was sitting next to Hermione, started to giggle, and Harry gave her a questioning glance.

"Harry's being all motherly towards Malfoy," the redhead girl laughed. "How sweet is that."

"I'm not being motherly!" Harry huffed, his cheeks flushing a little.

"Yes, you are," Hermione grinned.

"Am not!" Harry retorted, closing the napkin around the sandwiches.

"What's that, then?" Ron glared at the package. "A nosebag for the Thestral foals we're studying today at Care of Magical Creatures?"

Harry gave him a look, grabbed his parcel and stood up. "No, for your information, I thought of taking it to Hedwig and Nocens. We didn't get morning post, so I guess they're hungry, not having stolen anything from me and Draco's plates."

"Aw, he's feeding Malfoy's eagle owl already," Ginny tittered, and Hermione joined her laughter. Harry couldn't help but shake his head in amusement, before he took off.

**

The minutes slithered by. Agonizingly slow, and yet scarily fast. Draco was huddled under his blanket, wanting to shield his ill-treated body from the eyes of the world. He was repeatedly scratching his Dark Mark, tears flowing down his cheeks. It hurt so much.

_He_ hurt so much.

Curling more tightly around himself, he pressed his chin down, between his collar bones, and took a shaking breath. He let the air flow out of his lungs raggedly, and the number of the wet streaks on his cheeks multiplied. He felt like he was dying. Not physically, but very much mentally. It was all so hard to bear.

He had not allowed himself to fall apart before this. Not when being still _there_. He had not allowed himself to crumble. He had done everything he was told to do, bravely keeping his chin up when being commanded by _him_. Oh, yes… He had been an obedient little puppet of Lord Voldemort. And for that, he had suffered. And would suffer until the end of his days.

Physical pain, not like any other, had been his entire world that night. But still, there had been an ironical smile lingering on his lips… He had almost enjoyed every time a new _cruciatus_ had hit him because he had known that the more he had received, the sooner it would all be over. So, with a playful little torture like this, his powers had been slowly sucked out of him. But he had endured it all… for a reason purely unselfish. Namely, at the time his muscles had tensed and twisted in immeasurable pain, he had sacrificed all his remaining energy in the attempt to hide his feelings, blocking his memories, just to protect the only person he had ever considered worthy of his effort. With the little Occlumency skills he had learned from Snape during the five and half school years, he did his very best to conceal his heart. He would have rather died than let go of the one feeling he truly believed in.

But, even if these draining measures had helped to protect Harry, they hadn't been enough to protect his own self. No… Under the merciless, blood-shot eyes of the seventy-years-old Tom Marvolo Riddle, he had understood a complete new level of inner pain. He had ached deeply and madly from within, his heart bleeding along with his superficial wounds. His resolve had been steadily weakening after every cold and persuasive touch; his mind had been reeling in front of the sight that had been laid beneath his feet… There, under the vast skies of, a whole new generation of monsters was ready to start the biggest and most merciless war in the history of the magical world. Dementors, goblins, orcs, banshee women, vampires, trolls, giants, basilisk nestlings with their eyes temporarily tied… even four or five dragons had been there, competing for the mastership of the Cuillin hills with the Dark Lord. 

Feeling beside him, but acting like he was completely in his senses, Draco had deferentially submitted to every sinister whim of Lord Voldemort… he had submitted to the requirements of the people that called themselves his new family… The Death Eaters had surrounded him, encouraged him, _brainwashed_ him… and as a result, for the first time in his life, young Draco Malfoy had _killed_. And he had not killed just somebody….

The dark cloud of guilt and agony thickened above his pathetic form, and the acidic rain poured down on him, making Draco's whole soul twist and turn in pain. He forgot he was now safely lying in his own bed instead of kneeling down on the rocky, blackened ground of the -- Draco whimpered… The images were still very fresh in his mind. The beautiful but oh-so-dismal Cuillin Ridge, bathing under the cold moonlight and magical flames, was something one could not forget that easily.

Diamond shaped Coruisk… Draco had seen it from the mountainside above. It had been glimmering in a deep sapphire blue. It had been so very bright blue despite the fact that the sky had been painted with bright green and yellow by the vapour that rose from the nostrils of the two enormous Green Dragons. Oh, yes… the lake's shade had been a untainted sapphire blue though the mists that hovered above its surface had been burning red, set into flames by a couple of young adult Red Dragons. 

Sapphire blue… that had been the lake's colour… Only because Lord Voldemort had wanted it to be so. The Dark Lord had declared himself omnipotent… He was the one to move the mountains… and he was the one to set the lake's colour diamond blue if he wanted to. A mixture of sapphire, azure and indigo it would always be, even if the lake would be someday be filled with plain muddy blood instead of water.

Draco had always hated blue.

And now he just realised that.

**

Harry trotted down the stairs from the Owelry. He had been chatting away with Hedwig and Nocens for the past ten minutes, the drowsy Rune in his pocket occasionally cutting in, without even thinking it might not be a completely sane way to spend his morning. But now that he was back in the human world again and his thoughts inevitably turning at his lover, Draco Malfoy, he cursed himself for not choosing to visit the dungeons instead of the enormous bird lair. Why had Draco skipped breakfast? Harry shook his head and snorted at himself – he _was_ starting to act like a mother hen. It really didn't have to mean anything serious if the Slytherin boy decided to eat the day's first meal later than the others. Besides, Harry did not know for sure if Malfoy indeed had sneaked out to get a cup of coffee from the breakfast table while he had been feeding their owls.

Harry pushed the heavy doors of the castle ajar and slipped outside. The first class of the day would be Care of Magical Creatures, and, as Ron already had mentioned in the morning, they would be studying the newly born Thestral foals Hagrid had taken under his care. Harry knew that the lesson would not be that hard for him, since he was one of the very few students who cou ld actually see them, unlike Ron and Hermione. Yes… he was always so special, so exceptional. How annoying. He had seen people 

die just in front of his eyes, and oh! What a dandy gift he had gotten in return! He was able to see winged, ugly horses! A horrible sting of pain shot through Harry's whole body. Memories he'd been blocking were in danger to come out in the daylight again… Memories of Sirius…

Harry decided to pair up with Neville if he could. After all, the Longbottom boy was able to see the animals now, too.

"Hey, Harry, there you are!" Hermione greeted Harry as he joined her and Ron at Hagrid's hut. "We were just wondering what was taking you so long. The class starts in a few minutes."

"Yeah," Ron chorused, and then twisted his mouth into a grin. "I bet the birds had some really juicy gossip to tell, since you spent so much time with them."

Harry smiled at his friends, slightly out of breath. "It's more like they were my therapists and I did all the talking. You know, they're pretty reliable, not being able to spill out my secrets to anybody who's eager to talk, like, say, Lavender Brown."

"Talking about the devil," Hermione huffed, and glanced over her shoulder where she knew the blonde girl was standing at some distance. "Why are you still so bitchy towards her? She didn't do anything wrong. She just… She's a normal teenager girl, Harry. And any normal teenager girl would fall in love with you."

"Yeah, I guess you're right, Mione." Harry sighed, looking down at the ground, being slightly embarrassed. "I've been a real jerk. But it's just that… well… We really didn't fit together that well, and I… I can't help the fact that I don't respect her one little bit."

"She was pretty deflated when she heart about you and Malfoy yesterday." Hermione bit her lip. "I guess that she'd been trying to get Malfoy interested in her… to get back at you."

Ron looked dismayed, "Are all women that cunning and sly? Bloody hell, I am almost glad that you are with Ginny now, instead of me. Merlin knows where I'd have ended with you."

"What? You think I am cunning and… and _sly_? You think those things about _me_?" Hermione snapped, clearly a little bit tense for some reason. "And yet you think _Blaise_ _Zabini_ of all people is completely _free_ of these faults? Ha! I bet you think she's even lovely and funny!"

"What are you talking about?" Ron glared. "Have you gone mad?"

"Don't start with me, Ronald Weasley. I saw how you were looking at her at breakfast!"

"She is really a nice girl. Why couldn't I look at her at breakfast?"

"Because she is not a nice girl and she's a Slytherin!"

"And this bothers you because…?" Ron looked sarcastic.

"You deserve someone better!" Hermione half screamed.

"Oh, yeah, someone like _you_, is that it?" Ron sneered.

"That's it! All I am trying to do is being nice to you, but no… You just can't stop insulting me, can you?"

"What the fuck is your problem, Hermione?" Ron's eyes flared. "You're the one who started this whole argument!"

"Well, you shouldn't have lowered yourself at the same level with the Slytherins! Or have you forgotten how you punched Dean just because he was being loyal to Harry?"

"Now, what the hell does that have to do with anything?" Ron spat. "And have you possibly forgotten, Miss Hermione, that Harry here is dating a Malfoy! How could it possibly be so horrible if I then took interest in a Zabini?"

"So you admit it! I knew it! You have a crush on Blaise!" Hermione shrieked.

"I don't have a crush on her -yet! But I might as well create one, just to give your selfish prim nose a good little rap!"

"SHUT UP!" yelled Harry, who had been looking at them both in turn, following the flowing insults with a growing annoyance. Both Ron and Hermione fell silent, panting slightly with agitation. Harry groaned and massaged the ridge of his nose. "Okay. Clearly, we all need to talk. Tonight, after classes."

"But you have your detention with Filch today," Hermione said with a weak, pathetic voice, looking embarrassed and miserable.

"Fuck the detention. There are more important things now at stake. So, the Room of Requirement, at eight o'clock sharp. No questions or protests."

"But you cannot just skip your detention," Hermione pointed out.

"Well, I'll arrange it somehow." Harry spread his arms exasperatedly.

Hermione gave Harry a funny look, the kind of look she'd given the raven-hair already so many times during the past few weeks, and nodded. Then, she turned away and joined the other Gryffindor girls as the lesson was about to begin.

Ron strolled closer to Harry, sneering at Hermione's back, and muttered with silent tones. "Hey… Are we still going to tell her about The Plan tonight?"

"Yes, probably," Harry answered, looking sick and tired. "Blaise wants everything ready by Thursday evening."

**

Draco found breathing a very hard job to do. He had scratched his Dark Mark so hard it was already bleeding. But the black skull was still there, unfazed, un-marred… Blood dribbled down from its eyes and all the other parts that had not been burned as a part of the tattoo -but those parts of the skin that were marked with the skull's grimy colours were unharmed. They were untouchable. Draco's nails had gone blunt and broken from all the scraping, and yet he hadn't been able to remove the mark, 

or even blemish its ugly face. 

Voices started to fill the young Slytherin's head again… Voices of death, and anger… Voices of dark power. Draco trembled, falling yet again that morning into his painful memories.

_"A certain student of your house, Graham Pritchard, has told me some very interesting things about your relationship with Mr. Potter, my dear Draco. He has told me…That you two are…" Voldemort laughed, and then drawled out the last word amusedly. "…lovers."_

_Concentrating hard to cover his true thoughts and feelings about and towards Harry, probably looking very pale, Draco had struggled with his answer. "Oh…that. Um… Well… Yes, I suppose he's right." _

_Voldemort had looked dangerous. "Indeed."_

_"Sir… I never quit a job until it's done," Draco had managed to say, under the glare of the red, slicing eyes, kneeling in front of the Shadow Lord. "And I made it my goal to be able to bring Potter to you. Curiously, I found that he harboured these feelings towards me… so… I took advantage of the situation. You shall see the whole extent of my success next Saturday, Sir, if you will honour the Malfoy house with your presence that night."_

_Voldemort had seemed to be pondering Draco's words very carefully. He had raised his hand and touched Draco's cheek, trailing his long, cold fingers along the pale jawline. Draco had shivered and concentrated again on blocking those memories in his mind that could have exposed the true nature of his feelings towards Potter. _

_"Clever boy… and unselfish…" the Dark Lord had finally muttered. " I am quite pleased with you. There is nothing I respect more than self sacrifice for the sake of our cause. You really are loyal to me."_

_"Thank you, My Lord." Draco had concealed a sigh of relief._

_"I will visit the Manor next Saturday. You better not let me down…"_

_"I won't, My Lord." Draco swallowed, however thinking at the same time, 'Indeed, not I, but Potter will'. _

_"Good…Now stand, young Malfoy…and extend your arm."_

_Draco had scrambled up to his feet and hesitated._

_"Your left arm," Voldemort had reminded him. _

_Draco did not have the courage in him to resist. "Yes, My Lord."_

**

While passing the corridors towards Professor Binns' classroom for History of Magic, Harry met a group of Slytherin sixth year girls who were making their way up the stairs towards the Astromomy tower. Blaise Zabini was in the lead, and when she saw Harry, her pale green eyes widened with delight.

"Hey, Potter." She grinned.

"Hey, Zabs." Harry stopped in his tracks to exchange a few words with her. "Listen… Have you seen Draco this morning? Did he come to class?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." Blaise frowned. "He didn't show up in History of Magic, and what I heard from Theodore, Draco wasn't in their dorm room in the morning. However, the boys suggested he had sneaked up into the Gryffindor tower after midnight, to be with you."

"No, he wasn't with me." Harry looked suspicious. "And… You're sure he isn't in the Slytherin common room, studying or doing something less constructive?"

"None of the Slytherins have seen him the whole day, as far as I know." Blaise looked worried.

"Listen… If Draco doesn't show up in Astronomy either, meet me in the Entrance Hall before lunch. Let's go and find him together."

"Sure." Blaise sighed. "See you there, then."

Harry parted from her and joined his friends again. The Gryffindors were just entering the ghost professor's classroom, each of them looking ready to fall asleep again -except for Hermione, of course. Harry chose his seat next to Neville, watching with dull sorrow how Ron sat next to Seamus, and Herimone far away from him, next to Dean. So, the two really had separated.

The class was just like usual. Nothing eloquent happened during the long minutes. Harry found himself deadly bored, at first, but then, gradually, his concern about Draco started to fill his mind. Where was he? Why hadn't anybody seen him? Why hadn't he been in the dorm room in the morning? Questions followed one another, and finally Harry was convinced that something real ly alarming had happened.

"Harry, why are you breaking your quill?" Neville asked, his voice thick with on-and-off sleep.

Harry looked down at his hands and saw his favourite quill, the one made of Nocens' tail feather, completely ruined by his nervous fingers.

**

Draco was now sitting on his bed, cross-legged and hunching. He shivered a little, the cool dungeon air caressing the bare skin on his chest and back. Draco kept his eyes closed; he did not want to see himself. But he knew that he had to stand up. He had to collect himself, had to go to shower, had to heal all the visible bruises and wounds… Had to lift his chin up again and step into the outside world, aloof and elegant, unaffected by such little mishaps like the previous night's Dark Mark ceremony.

Draco pushed himself into a standing position and tried to stretch his hands, only to find them so badly injured that they only burned with pain and refused to move properly.

"Eeek!" a shrill scream echoed in the dormitory. "Gracious Merlin! What has happened to you, darling? Oh! Oh my!"

Draco clenched his fists, and gritted his teeth. Then he shot an agonized glare towards the looking glass on the wall. "Riddle happened to me."

"What, you don't know who did this to you?" Morgan, Draco's newly appointed mirror therapist, asked in disbelief.

Draco scowled. "I said Tom Marvolo Riddle did this to me. And a few other Death Eaters… I think."

A shocked gasp escaped the silvery square, and it started to wail quietly.

"What?" Draco snapped. "Something wrong with my new looks? I think this is rather up-to-the-minute, to be painted with blood…"

A weak voice then started to bemoan Draco's state, "…all that blood… those cuts… your beautiful body, so badly ruined… I think I'm going to faint…"

"You can't faint, you stupid bint, you're a mirror," Draco pointed out.

"How… how could someone do this?"

"Hmm, let's see," Draco brought his index to his lower, bruised lip, as if thinking really hard. "First, I would say it was the baby Black who tore my shoulders and upper back. Then, a few nicely targeted crucios bruised my arms and legs. A couple of good kicks on my stomach for being reluctant to killing my own cousin made my abs black and blue. And we should not forget about my aunt Bella's leather whip; she's a real dominatrix, she is. Ripped my clothes off with that sharp little black lash of hers, she did. Oh, and of course, the most important thing --" Draco showed his left forearm to the mirror, "The Dark Mark in itself hurts a great deal, even if it's so small. After all, it's about binding one's soul to darkness."

The mirror wept and hiccupped. "My poor baby boy… sniff… My lovely Dragon…"

Draco rolled exhaustedly his eyes. "Come on, Morgan." He smoothed the silvery mirror glass, smiling grimly with his broken lips. "It's not that bad. Really."

But the reflection that showed from the mirror indisputably made Draco question his own comforting words.

** 

"So, did he come to class?" was the first thing Harry asked Blaise when the girl emerged in the Entrance Hall.

"No." Blaise looked very worried, then sneered. "Otherwise I wouldn't be here, now would I?"

Harry threaded his hands nervously through his hair. "I need to find him. I need to know he's alright. I have this really bad feeling…"

"Let's check the dungeons first, then?" Blaise shrugged. "We've got to start somewhere, and it's not like Draco would ever go hiding in Hufflepuff or something."

"Yes," Harry agreed, and grabbed the girl's arm, starting to drag her towards the right staircase. "That's a good idea."

"Of course it is." Blaise tried to keep up with Harry's pace without stumbling over her feet.

"I just hope he's alright," Harry muttered.

"Stop it, Potter," Blaise snapped. "You're acting like a mother hen. And you're also scaring me with that ridiculous anxiety. I mean, seriously, what could possibly have happened to him? Hah! This is Hogwarts!"

"Exactly." Harry looked serious.

Blaise and Harry zigzagged in the narrow dungeon aisles for a while, trying to peek into every shadowy room as they passed them by. They both knew, however, that Draco would not lower himself into hiding in cold and dusty former classrooms; but having something to do in their uneasiness relieved both their minds.

"He's not here," Blaise said finally, closing the last wooden door before the entrance portrait into Slytherin.

"Let's go check the dormitories, then," Harry grunted, massaging his temples.

"Harry?" Blaise ventured.

"Yeah?"

"You really love him, don't you?"

"Don't be silly, girl." Harry immediately straightened his pose. "Of course not. We're just having sex."

"Uh-huh." Blaise looked at him through her long, black eyelashes, mouth twisting.

Harry groaned and averted his eyes from Blaise's. "Alright, fine, so I do care about him, so what? Now, can we please go on with our search? Because if we don't, I'll go probably mad with worry within seconds."

Blaise laughed and twined her left arm around Harry's waist. "Let's go, gorgeous… We can't have you going mad, now, can we? Draco wouldn't like that at all, and Merlin knows he'd blame me for it."

"How could he blame you for it?" Harry asked, slightly relaxed now that he was stepping through the portrait into Slytherin in Blaise's embrace. "He has caused this all himself, by disappearing from me."

"You should already know that there's never anything wrong with Draco's behaviour… nothing's ever his fault." Blaise sniggered. "There's always somebody else to blame for everything."

Harry couldn't help snorting with amusement. "Of course. I forgot."

"Blaise!" Vincent Crabbe came bustling to them, Gregory Goyle following closely behind. "Blaise! Help us! You're the only one he'll listen to!"

"What now?" Blaise sighed.

"It's Draco… Oh, hey, Potter," Vincent noticed. "Well, it's good you're here, too. Maybe, together, you two might be able to persuade him to open the door."

"Hey, hey, slow down," Blaise crossed her arms and stared at the two chubby sidekicks of Draco. "What's this all about?"

"Draco," Gregory whined, "has locked himself into our dorm room and won't let us in."

Harry and Blaise shared a confused, but slightly relieved, look.

"Can't you come and tell him to open the door?" Gregory continued. "Please?"

Harry hid a small smile, "Sure. We'll do all within our power to make him open the door. But I can't promise you anything… It may be an impossible task. Doors, you know, are sometimes very fickle things."

Vincent and Gregory stared at him weirdly, but then nodded in agreement. Blaise was desperately trying to suffocate her sniggers.

"Shall we, then?" Harry grinned and gestured his new Slytherin friends to lead the way.

When they arrived at the dormitory a couple of minutes later, they already found Theodore Nott sitting on the aisle floor, leaning against the wall and reading a book. His expression was murderous.

"Theo?" Blaise knelt in front of him, leaning on the boy's bent knees. "So it's true, then. Draco won't let you guys in?"

"Well, what does it look like, Bini?" Theodore hissed. "Oh, of course, I am just sitting here on the dusty cold floor because it's so much more fun than my own soft and warm bed."

Harry knocked on the door, startling a bit when a strong flood of magic streamed into him through the bare contact. He immediately recognized at least twenty very powerful locking charms, quite difficult to dissolve. Of course, he did not say anything to the Slytherins who surrounded him because that would've exposed his skills in wandless magic quite clearly. Therefore, he took out his wand and put up a little show, casting a few spells on the door that would reveal its magical status.

"He's locked it quite securely," he eventually muttered. "What's up with him?"

"We don't know." Theodore hauled himself up from the floor and dusted off his robes. "He's just screaming horrible obscenities at us every time we threaten to come in by force."

"And, of course, we know better than to go in there when he is like that," Vincent completed Theodore's sentence, frowning. "He'd probably Kedavra all of us."

Harry quirked his brow at the boy and leaned his ear against the wood of the door. "Draco, are you there?"

"_Fuck off_," was the muffled reply.

"Only with you, baby," Harry said, with his most persuasive tone.

"_Harry_?"

"Yeah, it's me."

A long moment of silence followed. Harry looked at Blaise, Theodore, Vincent and Gregory. The Slytherins all either shrugged or rolled their eyes.

"Draco?"

"_Yes, what now_?"

"Can I come in?"

"_No_."

"Why?"

"_Because I want to be alone_."

"Are you sick? You didn't come to classes, so I thought… Well?"

"_I'm just fine_."

Blaise came to Harry and also pressed her ear against the door. "Draco darling?"

"_Leave me alone_!"

"Stop acting like the git that you are," Blaise huffed. "Come out, we need to see that you're alright. We're worried. We miss you."

"_Then go miss me someplace else_!"

"Zabs?" Harry whispered.

"Yeah?"

"I don't feel good about this. Does this happen often?"

"No, not really that often," she whispered back. "And usually it's just about a bad-hair-day."

"I don't think this is about… that." Harry looked serious.

"Me neither."

Harry knocked at the door once more. "Draco? I'm coming in."

"_NO! Don't! Don't… Just… Leave me alone, Potter! Go away! I don't want to see you anymore_!"

Blaise, as well as Theodore, raised their brows at this forceful statement. Harry looked utterly shocked.

"So are you dumping me?" he asked, voice trembling with sudden inner fury and misery.

"_I… YES! I'm leaving you, you stupid Gryffindor brat_!"

Harry's eyes flashed. "WHAT?"

"_I'm leaving you, so bugger off back to Gryffindor! I don't want you near me again, you filthy tramp_!"

All the Slytherins gasped with horror.

"Fine!" Harry shouted at Draco. "If that's what you want."

"_That's exactly what I want. Now GO TO HELL_!"

Blaise looked at Harry with wide, green eyes and shot her hand out to hold Harry from the forearm. "He can't mean that, Harry."

"I think he made his point unquestionably clear," Harry said, his voice strained, his shoulders tense.

"No, don't go." Tears of disbelief filled Blaise's eyes when Harry turned his back at her. "Don't leave us like this."

"What do you want me to do?" Harry sneered.

"Just… Don't go. This is not normal! This is all so fucked up… He's clearly not himself… Ask him why he's like this! Ask him to re-consider his words!"

"I'm not a beggar," Harry said firmly, and marched out of Slytherin.

**

Draco's knees failed and he collapsed against Morgan, the mirror. Hot tears filled his eyes, streaming down his cheeks, burning his delicate skin. He opened and closed his eyes, his body twisting now with an overpowering inner agony, and he began to hyperventilate. With his last powers, he cast a Silencing charm on the room.

"Now why did you do that, dear?" Morgan whispered, with a teary voice. "Why were you so rude to our lovely Harry?"

Draco shortly wondered how a mirror could have a teary voice, but then forgot about that and remembered what he'd just done.

He had left Harry.

"Oh, god…" He buried his head in his hands and began to sob again, uncontrollably.

"Why?" the mirror cried along with him. "Why did you do that? Why did you hurt him? Why did you hurt yourself like this?"

"I did it… Because I love him," Draco exhaled, his words barely a whisper. "I don't want to h-hurt him…"

"You would never hurt anone, love…" Morgan tried to sooth the wrecked boy.

"I WOULD, dammit!" Draco howled in rage, and hit his fist against the floor. Then he turned around, and scowled at his own face in the mirror. "I just KILLED MY COUSIN! I sliced her skin! I hit her face when she pleaded for mercy! I… For fuck's sake! I… I… Watched how Voldemort ripped her heart out… and I… I did nothing… Nothing… I just watched… Her blood at my hands…"

Draco fell down in front of Morgan again, leaning his wet cheek against the mirror's shining surface. He left there a trail of blood and salty tears as he slid downwards, and finally curled in a little ball on the floor. He closed his eyes and wanted to fall asleep… Eternal sleep…

_"Now look around you, Grey-Eyes… And meet your new family!" Voldemort said, triumphantly._

_Draco, keeping his tears in check, proudly lifted up his chin, and scanned the group that had gathered in a circle around him and the Dark Lord. They all had their hoods down, but still he recognized easily his relations, Bellatrix and Rodolphus, Rabastan and his mother, Narcissa… He did not see Lucius anywhere, which mildly surprised him. Then, a short and rather chubby man, most likely Wormtail, stepped forth, and raised his wand. _

_"You may begin," Voldemort's voice echoed in the clearing._

_And then, the pain had started. _

_"Crucio!__ CRUCIO!…" The curses had hit him one after another, almost killing him with their power. "Crucio…!"_

Draco woke up from the shallow slumber he had managed to fall into when the pain of the Unforgivable curses started to scorch his body again. It was still lingering in there, inside him, in his veins... The one and only Cruciatus. Once you learned to know the extent of that pain, you never would forget it... Never… You'd be always able to feel it 

again... and again... and again…

But still, not even Voldemort's own Crucio could've been able to overpower the pain he was feeling in his heart because of what he had just done.

He had left Harry.

Draco bit hard on his fist and screamed, drawing blood with his cuspids from his shaking hand.

"I don't want to hurt him…" he spoke, his voice shaking, still keeping his teeth embedded into his skin. "But I'm no longer the master of my own self… I'm a Death Eater now… I might hurt him… And I don't want to hurt him… I don't… I… I don't want to h-hurt him… I'd rather kill myself before betraying him… I… I could kill myself…"

"Ssshhhh… It's alright… It's going to be just alright," Morgan whispered and started to hum a quiet lullaby, hoping against all hope that Draco would calm down.

Draco stopped speakng incoherent words and fell silent as Morgan's deep soothing voice filled the room.

Morgan watched how the most beautiful boy in her acquaintance lay in shreds on the floor, both his body and heart torn apart.

…TBC…


	28. Gone With The Sin

A/N: A thousand gentle bites for _Rotschopf_ and _Dystopic_ for the wonderful betaing.

**28. Gone With The Sin **

Harry wiped sweat out of his eyes with his robe sleeve and swore loudly. It was seven o'clock in the evening, and he was serving his detention with Argus Filch. Yet, he was sure that the ever-wonderful Professor Snape had had his influence on his current task: he was namely cleaning and dyeing old, rusty cauldrons back to their original, pitch-black state with a tattered, pink rag. His only delight in the darkening night was that Filch was currently out of the room, patrolling in the other parts of the dungeons with his mangy, yellow-eyed cat.

But, despite the fact that he was so carelessly left in relative freedom from any kind of strife, Harry was very, very miserable. Not because of the frustrating task at hand, but because of what had just happened between him and Draco Malfoy a few hours ago.

Harry could not believe that Draco had actually dumped him, and even without looking at him in the eye, hell, even without wanting to _see_ him. Somehow, the whole situation felt so unreal that Harry had to convince himself every five minutes that he was no longer with the Slytherin. And still, the truth of the fact seemed to completely elude his mind.

"I can't believe this," he sighed, for the thousandth time.

"What isss wrong?" Rune hissed, popping all of its three heavy-eyed heads out of Harry's robe pocket.

"So you're awake, you lazy sods," Harry snarled and tossed the dirty rag on the floor. His hands were stained with the black, sticky dyeing stuff, and he tried not to wipe them on his robes. "Do you ever do anything else but sleep?"

"We isss jussst a baby," the three-headed animal pouted. "We need sssleep."

"Well go on and sleep, then. It's not like I'd be any good company to you anyways tonight." Harry sat down on the floor and covered his face with filthy hands, getting his scar slightly stained.

"We wantsss to see the Dragon boy," Rune's middle head nudged Harry's elbow. The snake slithered out of the pocket and stretched to its magnificent, twenty centimetres' length in front of Harry. Harry smiled; the animal was quite cute, actually.

"Sorry, but you can't see him. Draco left me," Harry sighed, and began to caress the snake with the back of his hand that was still relatively clean from the black goo. "He doesn't like me anymore."

"Offf course he doesss," the left head huffed, and looked as if it was trying to roll its eyes. "He isss in love with you, he isss."

"Sorry, Rune, but can't we just change the subject?" Harry got tears of confusion and anger in his eyes. "It's hard for me to believe, too, but it's really true. He doesn't want me anymore."

"He isss hurt," the right head said, and began to sniff the middle head from under the jaw. "We ssscents a Black Dragon... We was awake when Massster Harry visited the dungeonsss today. Massster's boyfriend isss hurt..."

"Blood," the middle head answered, and shoved out its long, bifurcated tongue. "Black sssweat... Black blood..."

Harry blinked. Surely, he was not hearing, or understanding, correctly. "W-what?" he whispered.

"We knowsss, Massster... A dragon hassss been there, it hasss. Massster's boyfriend isss badly in pain..."

"WHAT?" Harry bolted up, his eyes lightening up with green fire. "What are you saying, Rune? What are you_ saying_?"

"We scentsss Masster Draco down in the dark." The left head actually looked sorry, if that was possible for a snake. "He hass been hurt... and he isss bleeding, we scentsss blood... Lots of blood. Massster Draco isss in pain..."

Harry bent forwards hastily and picked up the Runespoor. "This is not funny, you insolent snake!" he bellowed, squeezing the animal. "Draco is not _really_ dying, is he?"

All the three heads hissed and sizzled in irritation. "He isss not _dying_... But he isss very badly hurt. Don't sssqueeeze uss, Massster..."

Harry loosened his grip on the three-headed snake and tossed the reptile on his shoulder. Rune immediately curled around his neck.

"I _knew_ something was wrong!" Harry groaned, and rushed to the door. But, when he wrenched it open, he could hear Argus Filch's footsteps echoing closer and closer. "_Fuck." _

Harry glanced around the room quickly; he was only halfway through polishing the cauldrons. "Damn, damn, damn..." he cursed, clenching his fists. Harry could already hear Filch's voice; the old caretaker was talking to his cat fondly. The sufferable old man would never let him slide, not even if it was an emergency.

"Okay," Harry took a deep breath. "I'm sorry Dumbledore, but I have no choice." Harry slammed the door back shut. Then, slowly, the raven-haired Gryffindor raised his hand,closing his eyes. Soon, he was able to feel his magic flooding his body, the blood carrying it to his fingertips. The feeling of power was so intense that Rune hissed with fright and disappeared in Harry's pocket once again. "_Scourgify_..." Harry whispered. "_Reparo_... _Infusco_..." 

A soft but powerful shock wave ran along the dusty room after each incantation. And, right in front of Harry's eyes, the row of cauldrons became spotlessly clean, the rust disappeared, and their colour turned to shining and black like Snape's greasy hair. Harry smirked, satisfied, and turned on his heel. 

The door swung open. "Ah, good, you're already here," Harry smiled at Filch, and dusted his robes. "I'm done here, so if you'll excuse me..." The Gryffindor picked up the grimy polishing rag from the floor and tossed it in Filch's lap. "Bye!"

Quickly as a cat, Harry slipped out of the room, without giving Filch any opportunity to protest. He left the open-mouthed caretaker and the flabbergasted cat behind and rushed along the corridors towards the Slytherin portrait.

**

Draco was wide awake again. He lay curled into a ball in the darkest corner of the room, shivering with the persistent cold that the dungeon walls seemed to radiate. He wiped a tress of bloody hair out of his eyes, only to have it immediately falling back. Tiredly, Draco raised his hand to smooth the hair back again. He brushed his shaking fingers through the once-so-silver hair and frowned, as his digits would not go through it effortlessly.

Draco fingered the obstacle. It was a pearly grey feather, stuck into the unkempt mass of blood and dirt and silk. Or rather, it was more like a small, white-grey down than a real feather. Draco played with his locks in order to release it. 

The down was so light that it might as well have been plain air. Draco smiled fondly at it, and smoothed the lines of his open palm with it. Running the softness over the life line, he wondered mutely how it could look so strong and long, indicating thus vitality, power and energy which he, for the lack of a cleverer explanation, was now simply missing. 

His heart line, however, proved to have at least one thing right: it was a sign of aggressive love life and strong sexual desire. It also specified that he was very choosy about his partners. But, not all the lines of his hand were this encouraging.

His fate line was so imaginary that it was almost non-existent. Trelawney had once said it was a sign of a person who lacks stability. She had also explained that, because his fate line was tied with his heart line, it was a clear indicator that he had had a very restricted childhood. Everybody in the classroom had laughed at her then. They simply could not believe that Draco Malfoy, the rich arrogant brat who got almost everything in life he merely wished for, had ever suffered at home.

Little did they know.

Draco's mind whirled back in time, memories of his earlier years flowing through his mind. An image formed in front of his eyes, an image of his father smiling down at him. Squeezing the soft feather in his hand, Draco allowed himself to remember.

It had been a very beautiful summer day about three years ago. He had been thirteen years old. He had been sitting outside in the bright daylight, letting the treacherous beams of the sun dance across his alabaster skin, hoping he would not get burned. He had been sitting in the middle of a pretty meadow just outside the Malfoy Manor, inhaling the soft scents of blooming flowers and the brisk aroma of the approaching autumn. He had been relaxed, happy even.

Then, his father's shadow had landed on him unexpectedly, clouding the cobalt sky from his view.

Draco had looked up at his father's face, and seen a smile caressing the sides of the man's mouth. From previous experience, he knew it was not a good sign.

Draco remembered it all crystal clear. After all, a good memory was a common gift for diviners. And he remembered, indeed.

It was the day Lucius Malfoy had raised his face against the sun -for the last time in his life. 

It was the day Draco Malfoy had cast his gaze to the ground -and started his Black Magic training in earnest.

Draco opened his palm and let the light grey feather flutter down on the floor beside him. He followed it with his eyes, glazing over. He had mastered his eagle owl form at the end of his fifth year, after almost three years of hard practising and hard handling. It was the greatest achievement he had reached so far. But still, he did not use his skill that often.

His mother, of course, had told him he was a beautiful being for an eagle-owl.

His father, of course, had told him he was a tailored fighter for the Dark Lord.

Draco shivered, remembering the last time he had used his Animagus form. In other words: he remembered last night.

He had followed the Black Dragon wyrmling closely, soaring like a shadow through the cold night sky. Millions of stars had been twinkling romantically down at him, and he had repressed the urge to gag; after all, he had been in a form of a handsome, dignified bird. The wind had come in sharp fits, howling in the forests below and lifting the frost-bitten leaves in the air for a waltz. The ominous, shadowy rocks of Cuillin Ridge had risen in the horizon, radiating dark power and promising an entertaining evening.

Draco now knew that he had flown his last free flight that night. Now, he was crippled, his wings were broken, and he could never be healed again.

Bitterly, Draco squashed the soft eagle owl feather against the rocky floor with one thumb. However, it did not break, but bounced back into the air and floated a little further away, out of the boy's reach.

**

"Zabs? Zabs! _Anyone_!" Harry banged the door to the Slytherin common room. "Open up!"

A very confused-looking Carlos Warrington came to push the portrait ajar. "Potter?"

Harry didn't care to explain himself, but rushed past Warrington into the room. He scanned the room and spotted Blaise Zabini in one corner with Theodore Nott and Mary-Ann Greengrass.

"Potter, what the _fuck_?" Warrington closed the door and scowled at the Gryffindor.

"Later." Harry waved dismissively and jogged towards the sixth years. "_Blaise_!"

She looked up from a magazine she was reading, and curiously looked at Harry. "Potter," she acknowledged. 

With a jolt, Harry realised that her eyes were red from crying. In fact, the whole lot of the sixth and seventh year Slytherins looked like blunt shit. What was happening here? Harry had never before seen any of the Slytherins cry, or show any other vulnerable emotion either, for that matter. Were they really this much distraught about Draco's behaviour? Or were they possibly sorry because Draco and he weren't together anymore? Harry didn't want to waste time thinking about that right now.

"I need you, Blaise. This instant," he said urgently.

Theodore and Mary-Ann looked inquiringly from Harry to Blaise and back, but didn't say a thing.

"Uh, sure." Blaise stood up and tossed her magazine at Theodore. "What is it?"

Harry gently took her hand, tugging her towards the boys' dormitories. "Is he still keeping to his room?"

"Well, yeah." Blaise frowned, knowing that Harry was talking about Draco. "What is this? Did you finally come back to your senses and will ask him to take you back?"

"Yes, and no," Harry answered.

Blaise was confused. "Er, okay."

Harry turned around the last corner and sighed in relief when he found the aisle empty. "Look, Blaise..." He stopped, and put his hands on the girl's shoulders. "I came back to my senses, yes. But I didn't come here to ask him to take me back... because I don't believe he really meant to leave me in the first place."

Blaise nodded slowly. She was beginning to feel really mystified now. "Okay... Er... You wouldn't want to, ah, explain to me what you mean?"

"Here's the thing." Harry looked like he was burning in his trousers. "I think something's really wrong. Something really bad has happened. I... I'm afraid he's...well, badly hurt."

Blaise's eyes widened. "H-hurt?" she winced. "Yes, as in physically injured." Harry swallowed, and hastily started 

to explain what Rune had told him about the scent of a dragon and blood.

Blaise listened to him in shock. "Baby Black, did it say?" she looked almost ready to collapse. "Oh, fucking hell... Oh, gods, no..."

"What?" Harry shook her. "Tell me!"

A lonely tear of shock and realisation ran down her cheek. "It was The Call," she whispered. Her lower lip was trembling. "It was Vold..." She swallowed. "Harry, it was _him_."

Harry paled. "_Voldemort_?" he managed to croak.

Blaise nodded. "Yes."

"We need to get to him, _now_!" Harry ran a hand through his hair and licked his lips. "We need to get through that door."

Blaise was urgently wiping tears from her eyes as if to hide them. "Yes, but how do we do that?" she asked.

"Zabs, listen. There is a way. But... You must understand. What I'm about to do now..." Harry looked seriously at her. "You just didn't see any of this, right?"

Wondering vaguely what Harry was talking about, she nodded. "Whatever it is, I'll keep it quiet."

Brushing gentle fingers down Blaise's hot cheek, Harry turned to look at Draco's door.

_What the bloody hell_, he thought. _I did it already once today... So I guess another time won't do any harm._

Concentrating on the heavy locking and silencing spells on the wooden surface, Harry leaned his hands against the door and began to mutter incantations. 

**

Draco shifted uncomfortably, and started to bite his usually well-manicured nails. In front of his eyes, a happy memory was playing its bittersweet melody now. It was the smiling face of his cousin, Nymphadora Tonks. Draco managed a faint grin.

Although Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were never informed, Draco had seen her shortly the previous summer in Diagon Alley, when he had been shopping with Pansy and Theodore. Draco and Nymphadora had recognised each other, of course, but had not approached one another. It would not have been acceptable if the Malfoy heir had connected himself with an Auror, now would it? But Draco had observed his cousin with curiosity from afar, wondering how twisted it was that they were not allowed to be family because of the choices their parents had made.

Nymphadora had smiled at Draco just then and, taken off guard, Draco had smiled back at her. Heaven forbid! Draco had been horrified. Yet it was a happy memory, no matter how forcefully Draco wanted to believe otherwise.

And then, the guilt struck his heart with its merciless blade again, showing him the same pretty face, now twisted in horrible pain.

Nymphadora Tonks had already been a prisoner when Draco had arrived at Voldemort's camp. She had been magically bound against a high rock-wall, her clothes half burned and her wrists bleeding against the imaginary cuffs. Of course, the change of her outer appearance was striking, if compared to the previous summer. She looked now frail and broken, 

instead of the smiling, vivid girl Draco had seen in Diagon Alley. But Draco had not been able to show his own, suffocating feelings, then. Not in front of Voldemort and his followers. So he had just watched, swallowing his newly found heart, as the only cousin he had ever known was being tortured by his own, mindless self. The raw memory repeated only the same and single maddening mantra: "Please, Draco! Don't do it! Please..."

Draco recoiled and opened his eyes that he had not even realised he closed. He frowned in the darkness of the Slytherin bedroom and furrowed his brows in suspicion.

Something wasn't right now.

Something was _totally _out of place now. 

The nagging feeling in Draco's heart only increased when he came to think about the fateful evening from a different perspective.

Why would Voldemort have captured Nymphadora Tonks? And _how _had he succeeded to do so, without the other Aurors being alarmed? Surely, knowing Harry and his important position in the Order, Draco would have heard of such a serious twist beforehand. And, if anything could be deduced from Nymphadora's condition, Draco was sure that his cousin had been 

hanging there in the chains for at least several hours before his own arrival, if not for days. Certainly, a missing Auror would not have gone unnoticed by the Ministry and Dumbledore.

Draco touched his Dark Mark, this time ghosting his pale fingers smoothly across the scull's face. The distressing feeling swelled in his chest, and he thought about the plain facts as logically as he could.

He had been accepted into the ranks of Death Eaters.

_Accepted_. In a _ceremony_. In ceremony that was made to _test his loyalty_...

Draco rose to his knees and crawled to Morgan the Mirror. He looked at his reflection again, but this time saw a lot more than just his wounds and blood-covered features: he saw a possibility.

Careful to not put more strain on his wounds, Draco reached for his wand. Then he brushed the wand's tip through the dried blood that covered his abdomen and whispered the spell. "_Cognatus Malfoy_!"

Blue light erupted from the wand's tip and transformed the red grime into a glowing, blue substance. Draco waited for a few seconds, and when the colour finally turned bright orange, he almost sighed in relief. However, he did not trust the results yet, and repeated the same spell with blood taken from different parts of his body.

After about ten minutes of spell-casting, Draco rested his head on his hands, and put his wand carefully down on the floor. He was 

hyperventilating - he was so happy. The blood had _always _turned orange. The blood had _not once _turned _silver_. It meant that, whoever he had killed, was _not _his own blood: not the Black blood, not the Malfoy blood. Which, inevitably meant that The Somebody he had killed was _not _his _cousin_, Nymphadora.

He had not killed his family. He still had his cousin. And yet, he _had _killed his family. He _had _killed his cousin. The fact that it might have been somebody else in disguise did not change the fact that he was a murderer. It did not change the fact that he had killed somebody he had _believed _to be his cousin.

Draco clutched his hair and ripped it forcefully. He was a failure, in the whole meaning of the word. He did not know what to do, where to go. He had lost everything that mattered to him these days: himself and Harry.

Draco was brooding over his sins and mistakes so intensely that he was totally unaware of the fact that someone started to murmur incantations behind his door. So, he was fairly surprised when the door suddenly burst open, and both Harry and Blaise entered. He gasped with fright and scurried backwards like a crab into the shadows of his corner, wanting to melt into the stone. He felt his face go white with terror under the reddish coat of gore. 

"Harry..." he managed to say weakly, before tears welled in his eyes and ran down his cheeks. He wiped them angrily away. "Blaise."

**

The Slytherin girl ran directly to Draco, knelt down beside him and wrapped protective arms around the boy's shoulders. Harry stood at the doorway, eyes large and dark green, looking at his boyfriend, who was all covered in deep gashes and cuts and blood. Draco met his eyes, and raised his left inner arm for Harry to see.

"Dandy, eh?" Draco grinned bitterly, and then lowered his gaze, as well as his arm, ashamed. Blaise was sobbing by his side, trailing gentle fingers across his bare torso, helplessness and sorrow shining from his eyes every time she discovered a new injury.

"What did they do to you? This is horrible! Oh, Merlin, Draco..." she wailed.

Draco felt nauseous. He did not deserve this kind of loving attention. True, he had gotten a glimpse of that beautiful, purifying light with Harry, had allowed the Gryffindorish goodness warm his heart for a short while... But it was all gone now, all disappeared into the night. He was now a killer, and a Death Eater. A Failure. Harry would never love him anymore, not now. But Draco would be damned if he acted like a snivelling puddle of despair in front of his ex-boyfriend.

"Draco, look at me!" Blaise was still fussing over the Slytherin leader. "Tell me what can I do to help you?"

Draco braced himself and adapted his coldest demeanour. "Stop it, woman, I'm fine."

Blaise visibly flinched at the frosty air that was radiating from the Malfoy heir. Draco lifted her chin up with his fingers and looked steadily in her pale green eyes. "Blaise, I really am fine."

"The _fuck _you are!" It was Harry, slamming the door back shut and walking swiftly to the two Slytherins. His cheeks were tinted red with anger, his movements quick and menacing. "What the _hell _do you think you're doing? Look at you! You should be in the hospital wing!"

Draco was surprised when the Gryffindor dropped on his knees in front of him, and firmly gripped his left arm. "And _this_!" Harry wrenched his arm so that the Dark Mark was showing again. "What the _fuck _happened to you last night? And don't you dare give me that face, Draco Lucius Malfoy, or I'll _slap _you!"

Draco felt odd and warm little tingles run up his forearm to his heart from the places where Harry's fingers were touching his sore skin. Did this mean that Harry actually still cared for him? Draco swallowed a thick lump that had formed in his throat suddenly, and tried to speak; his voice left him.

Harry's eyes softened, but were still dangerously dark. "You look terrible, Malfoy," he sighed, and crawled closer. "Come here."

Soon, Draco found himself in Harry's welcoming embrace and could not hold back his guilt and agony anymore. All the pain left his system with ragged, desperate sobs.

Harry smiled, gently massaging Draco's neck. "Let it out," he whispered. "Let it all out."

Draco growled. Then, he crawled a little more upwards in Harry's arms and bit the Gryffindor in the shoulder.

Harry yelped with pain. "Draco! You _bit _me!"

"Just a warning," the blonde mumbled, and Harry could feel him smirk against his chest. "If this little display of emotion of escapes the room, I will have to hex both you and Blaise to ugly toads. Then you can marry each other and have a herd of ugly toad kids."

Blaise managed to snort amidst her tears, and Harry grinned widely. "Don't worry, baby. This never happened."

"Speaking of toads, did you ever know Umbridge had a thing for Snape?" Draco quipped.

"What? Eww!" Harry and Blaise echoed each other, their concern for Draco momentarily forgotten when this disturbing mental image flooded their minds.

Draco burst out crying again, this time really miserably. "Harry..." he wailed, but did not know how to express what he wanted to be said.

"It's okay, baby," Harry said; his voice was thick with emotion.

Draco tightened his grip on Harry, and felt warmth slowly creeping back into his body when he felt the Harry's fingers caressing the small of his back. He even felt Blaise's soft hands sliding through his gory hair, eliciting more of those offending tears from his eyes. With a shock he realised that he really had friends, _true _friends, and that he truly was _loved_. How could he have not seen that before? How could he ever have even thought about following his father to the Dark side? But, it was all too late now. He was now drowned too deep in the dark.

Harry's love had not been able to save him, after all.

"Why are you still here?" Draco asked angrily. He pushed away from the two people he loved scarily much, stood up and straightened his pose. He could not quite ignore the two pairs of worried eyes that raked over his injured body. "I'm a Death Eater now. You should not be here, either of you. Potter, I should _kill _you," he snarled.

"Yeah," Harry stared straight in Draco's eyes, looking smug. "But I'm not worried." 

"And why not?" Draco's voice was raw.

"Don't you remember?" Harry grinned up at the blonde. "You would never kill anyone who gives as good head as I do."

Draco was absolutely dumbstruck. Did Harry just crack a joke? And bad one at that, but a joke none the less. How could Harry not be serious about this matter? Draco felt a headache coming. He distantly heard the Gryffindor boy talking to him.

"I'm worried more about _you _than me," Harry said. He looked pained, glancing worriedly at Draco. "Love. In case you haven't noticed, I must bring to your attention that you are very badly hurt. We should get you to Madame Pomfrey."

Draco flashed a half-amused, beautiful and slightly shy smile. "Did you just... call me _love_?"

"Yeah," Harry frowned. "Why?"

"You're honestly still in love with me?" he asked in disbelief.

"Hell yeah. Very much."

Draco sat back down, in front of Harry. He did not quite care how pathetic he sounded now. The relief was overpowering. "R--Really?"

"Yes," Harry rested his fingers on Draco's thigh, tracing idle and tickling patterns on it. "And I know that you're still in love with me, too."

"So sure about it, eh?" Draco teased, fighting his emotion.

"Yeah," Harry grinned. "Cocksure."

"But I just left you!" Draco protested weakly, sounding horribly vulnerable.

"And I just took you back," Harry gave a cheesy grin and ruffled Draco's hair. "Now, let's talk about other things that are less clear. For example, what is this blood all over you? If it was all yours, I'm sure you wouldn't be breathing."

All colour drained from Draco's face and his eyes grew steel cold. He jerked away from Harry again, and shuffled back into his shady corner. "I killed someone," he said, his voice flat.

"Yeah, obviously," Harry rolled his eyes. "So tell us what happened."

Draco could not help it: he felt his mouth drop open. He outright gaped at Harry. "How can... What the... What the _fuck_?"

"Yeah, tell me," Harry encouraged. "_What _the fuck."

"Are you completely _insane_, Harry?" Draco yelled. He was sure he was losing it now, and rapidly. "I just told you I _bloody killed _someone and you're sitting there, casually _fondling my thigh_, and just nonchalantly asking _who it _was! Are you sure it's not you who should go to see Pomfrey?"

"Draco." Harry took his trembling hands in his own. "Calm down. Calm down... Listen. I know about those meetings. I have seen plenty of visions of them. I know, at least partly, what you've been through. And yes, before you ask, no matter what you did or who you killed, I still love you."

"Even if it was your family?"

"But it wasn't my family."

"No, it wasn't. But you're still insane," Draco shook his head.

"No, I'm not." Harry's eyes gleamed. "Because I know you didn't do anything voluntarily."

"How do you know that?" Draco sneered. 

"Because otherwise you wouldn't be crying here in my arms."

Draco's eyes flashed, and Blaise, who had been listening in quiet, suppressed a snort.

"For your information, Potter, I was not under Imperius."

"For your information, _Malfoy_, I don't care."

"Damn, you two are just adorable together," Blaise saw fit to inform them.

Draco, feeling very out of place and time, closed his eyes. He started to rock back and forth in his utter disorder. "I'm dreaming. This isn't happening. This is one sick and twisted fantasy that has no real-life connections. I am a Death Eater and Harry Potter hates me. Blaise is not sitting next to me right now and she definitely is not telling me that I look adorable with Potter. I am covered with blood and I look horrible. I have the Dark Mark in my forearm. Harry Potter hates me. Blaise is disappointed with me. This is not real... This is not real..." 

Harry gathered Draco in his arms once again, and Draco buried his confused head in Harry's chest. Blaise looked at Harry worriedly as the Gryffindor caressed the Slytherin.

"This is horrible, Potter. Look at him, he's half dead!" she whispered frantically, gesturing at Draco's wounded back.

"Yeah." Harry sighed, smoothing Draco's hair. "I'll get somebody to take a look at him soon. Just... Let's give him a moment to gather himself, okay?"

"Yeah," Blaise said. Then she happened to look at her own reflection from the Mirror and gasped with horror. Running to get a handkerchief and a bottle of moisturizing cream from Draco's nightstand, she started to rub her face. 

"Blaise?" Harry asked amused. "What are you doing?"

"My khol... and my mascara..." she growled.

Harry laughed out loud. "Slytherins. Are you all so bloody _vain_?"

Blaise ignored him completely. "Listen, Potter. Voldemort still thinks that Draco's on his side. So, we must stick to our plan."

Harry raised his brows at the sudden change of the subject. "Okay."

"Hmm, perhaps it's even better now, in a sardonic sort of way, that Draco's a Death Eater," Blaise pondered. "Voldemort will suspect us even less!"

"You're right, Blaise. That's a really good point. We must talk to Hermione tomorr... oh _shit_! I forgot! I was supposed to meet her and tell her about the plan _tonight_!"

"What? And you didn't!" Blaise shrieked.

"Well, obviously I've had something very much more important on my mind," Harry snapped, gesturing at Draco who was nuzzling against him. "Besides, Ron's there. I'm sure he'll explain the plan to her."

Blaise seemed to calm down at this. "Ron, hmm? Yes... He's a clever guy, no matter what Sir Draque here says..."

Draco snorted and Harry looked amazed at Blaise's appraising words. Blaise rolled her eyes. "Anyway, he seems to be very devoted to you, Harry," she said. "He's very loyal, and I think he's also very capable of helping us with this mission."

"I know," Harry smiled, trying not to outright grin. Blaise was interested in his best mate!

"Now, the only thing that worries me is that how he'll manage to talk to Granger after what they've been through, lately. I've heard that Granger left him for his sister... or something like that. And it's not really hard to notice that it hurts Ron like hell."

"Ron can handle it," Harry assured, thinking about his friends' fight earlier that day. "He has to, and he will. And... You've been a great help to him. I understand you two have been talking."

Blaise's eyes drifted away, into a land where Harry wasn't able to follow. Harry smirked at this; he was getting more and more certain that Blaise was hopelessly smitten with Ron.

"Um... I think it's time to give Draco some medical help now," Harry broke the silence, squeezing Draco against him. 

"The hospital wing?" Blaise looked a little uncomfortable.

"Are you sure...?"

"No! Not Pomfrey!" Draco mumbled. "Not that cow!"

Harry laughed. "We'll see. But one thing is sure. I will take him to the prefects' bathroom and see what I can do for him myself," he said, merely to Blaise.

"Do _for _him... or do _with _him," Blaise smiled, re-arranging her thoughts again to the present date and time.

"_And _with him," Harry grinned back. 

Draco sat up straighter and glared at them both. "Excuse me, but I'm still in the room, and I'm not used to hearing suggestive hints about what is going to happen to me and my pretty arse in a blunt way like this!"

"Don't worry baby, I won't be doing anything to you, you're too weak to have sex of any kind." Harry kissed Draco's nose, and the Slytherin growled in annoyance.

Blaise giggled. "Oh, you two get going already! I'm going to make sure Ron and Granger are fine... Where were you supposed to meet, again?"

"The Room of Requirement. On the seventh floor, opposite the tapestry showing Barnabas the Balmy trying to teach trolls to dance ballet. The room doesn't appear unless you walk three times past the blank wall, concentrating hard on what is needed... uh... I guess you must think about Ron very hard, then," Harry said, with a twinkle in his eye.

Blaise beamed, and dashed off. Harry chuckled.

Draco looked confused, and raised a brow at Harry.

"Uh... nothing important." Harry shook his head. Perhaps it wouldn't be wise to tell Draco about Blaise and Ron yet, seeing as the blonde still detested the Weasleys with vigour. "Come on now, we need to get you fixed up."

"I'm fine." Draco frowned and stood up with rash movements, as if to prove he was alright. However, as soon as he got to his feet, he swayed and cringed with pain. The world danced in his eyes, and he felt dizzy. "Uh... Potter..."

Harry immediately sprung up and steadied the Slytherin. "Yes, you're very fine indeed," he scowled.

"You... you're not seriously taking me to Madame Pomfrey, are you?" Draco managed to look disgusted just before his feet betrayed him and he collapsed into Harry's arms.

"You're a wreck, Malfoy... And Pomfrey is very good with healing charms. We need to get those wounds cleaned; it's a miracle if they haven't got infected already."

"I don't want to see Pomfrey," Draco whined. "And I don't want my housemates to see me like this... We can't let anyone see me like this... the Dark Mark..."

"Shit, you're right," Harry groaned. "We can't let anyone see it."

"Thought so..."

"Then it is only lucky that I brought my Invisibility Cloak," Harry said, and took the cloak out of his school bag. "I took it with me to detention. I sort of had this weird feeling I'd needed it tonight."

**

"Where are we going, Harry?" Draco asked, when finding them circling through the dungeon corridors rather than climbing up the staircases. "I thought the hospital wing was upstairs."

"We're not going to the hospital wing, love. I've come to the conclusion that we really can't let Pomfrey see your, ah, new tattoo."

"Then where _are _we going?" Draco looked suspicious.

"We're going to see Snape," Harry informed, and dragged Draco determinately along.

"SNAPE!" Draco gasped, eyes widening in horror. "_Never_! Harry, look at me. We can't possibly go see him. He... Harry, Snape... he is one of _them_!"

Harry only smiled at the blonde's discomfort. So, Snape was still in good books among Voldemort's supporters, which was, of course, a good sign. "Draco, my love, he is a spy."

Draco blinked once. Then he blinked twice. "Okay, I must be worse off than what I expected. Now, I'm hearing my own stuff. I thought you said Snape was a spy. Hah! What a joke."

"Draco." Harry kissed Draco's gaping mouth quickly. "Professor Snape _is _a spy. For the Order."

"But... he... He was there last night! With the others, torturing me!" Draco fiercely reminded Harry.

"Of course he was." Harry frowned. "He's attending every meeting to be able to give Dumbledore some new information. But hell, I wouldn't have thought he'd actually _torture _you!"

"Well, actually, now that you mention it..." Draco weakly massaged his temples. "I guess Snape was one of the few that stayed in the background, only watching. Then, I didn't much pay attention to what he was doing, but now..."

"Come on, let's get going, Snape's office is just behind the corner," Harry gestured, and pushed Draco forwards, dropping the Invisibility Cloak from their shoulders. "Actually, I bet he's been expecting you already. Well, not in the sense of you being on _our _side, but anyways... I'm sure he's been waiting for you to come and gloat about finally being a Death Eater."

"What's there to gloat?" Draco muttered, bitterness making his silvery eyes reflect smoke grey. "All my life I've tried to follow my sadistic father, when all I needed was _you _to realise what was best for me."

"You're being sweet." Harry grinned.

"Am not!" Draco protested, and crossed his bruised arms. He was still without a shirt, and was slightly shivering in the cool underground aisle.

"It could have been different, you know," Harry said, and turned to knock on Snape's door. "We could've been friends from the beginning on. You could've found your place in the world earlier. So many years wasted... Well, but you always were the insufferable prick you are."

"Thank you." Draco smiled sarcastically, his bleeding lips twisting in an almost comical manner. "I love you too."

"I know." Harry gently pulled Draco closer and kissed his forehead.

The door swung open, and Severus Snape's gloomy, crook-nosed form hovered in front of them. "Potter, what...? _Malfoy_?"

Snape scowled dangerously, obviously thinking that Draco was now the worst possible company for the Boy Who Lived. But, of course, Snape had to remember to play his Death Eater role. 

"May I enquire as to the reason why you two are here at this ungodly hour?"

"Sir, it is not yet eight in the evening," Harry pointed out.

"Silence!" Snape spat, being a little bit disappointed that the effect of his perfectly formed inquiry was now ruined. "Come in, you two! We don't want anyone to see you like this!"

The boys slithered in the shadowy and fuggy room, and Snape closed the door behind them.

"Now, I want you to tell me instantly what is going on here?" The Potions master cocked his head, examining the two boys with a weird mixture of interest, fear and concern.

Draco leaned his back against Harry and turned his left forearm in the course of bright torchlight. "This," he said, managing to sound both annoyed and tired. "As you probably already know, I was initiated last night."

"Um, yes, I am aware of that," Snape said, hesitantly. He was not yet sure what the hell Potter was doing in the room as well, and why the hell Draco saw fit to expose his new tattoo to the hero boy. Snape tried his best not to look confused.

"Sir, I want you to heal Draco's injuries," Harry exclaimed, looking determinate and arrogant. "And I need you to give him some kind of pain relieving potion for the Dark Mark, too. I'm sure you understand that we cannot exactly go and see Madame Pomfrey."

Snape looked back and forth from Potter to Draco, his sharp, black eyes trying to find an explanation for this unusual event. Potter, knowing what Snape must have been thinking, rolled his eyes, and started to guide Draco towards one of Snape's black leather chaise lounges. "Draco's on _our _side, Sir," he drawled. Draco chuckled at Harry's tone of voice, but was too exhausted to make a comment himself.

"Watch your mouth, Potter!" Snape gasped. How could that insufferable Gryffindor brat speak that way in front of another Death Eater? Sure as hell Draco had not resisted much the previous night, when the Mark had been burned into his skin. "Mr Malfoy, why did you not come to see me earlier? I am not sure if it is wise to let Mr Potter..."

"Sevvy, calm down." Draco giggled. He was feeling very light-headed suddenly, probably because of the blood loss and the exhausting walking. "You must have noticed we're together," he continued, smirking.

"Well, yes, ah, the nature of your reckless relationship has not gone entirely unnoticed by me," the Potions master sourly said.

"Yes, a reckless relationship, indeed," Draco sniggered.

"Means we're fucking like bunnies," Harry offered.

This was all too much for the Potions master, and all too soon.

"Merlin help us all." He brought a hand to his eyes, and collapsed into his favourite armchair, looking totally defeated. "If anyone would care to explain this to me now, it would be most appreciated."

"Okay." Harry shrugged, and moved to sit on the armrest of the couch which Draco was lying on. "Here's the thing. Draco was initiated last night, without his consent and now he's hurt. I want you to heal him. And then, we might discuss your role as the spy among those mindless zombies and see what Draco will think about that."

"Potter, you must be out of your god damn mind," Snape hissed. "How do you know he isn't in for it for _real_?"

"Because I love Potter," Draco muttered, eyes closed. "There, what a shocker," he added, and started sniggering again. "Can anyone give me a blanket? It's fucking cold in here!"

Harry grinned at Snape's noncommittal expression, shrugged his own Gryffindor cloak down his shoulders, and tugged Draco under it. "There you go, love. Now, you take a little nap, and I will try to persuade 'Sevvy' to concoct some good potions for you, okay?"

"'Kay," Draco smiled, and snuggled against the sofa's backrest.

Snape listened to their interaction with a dawning comprehension - or, rather, incomprehension. Draco Malfoy was really in love with Harry Potter. A double shocker, it was. For who could ever love _Potter _of all people? It just didn't fit into Snape's narrow field of emotional understanding. And secondly, Draco Malfoy, _in love_? Hah! Draco Malfoy could not love. His father had made sure of that, a long time ago. So, what the _hell _was happening here?

"Sir?" Harry addressed the Potions master. "I know it's hard to believe, but Draco is _not _a Death Eater."

"Ah," was all Snape said, in addition to a scornful frown.

Harry immediately felt frustrated and riled up. "Would it be overly arduous for you to produce a small amount of pain relieving potion for Draco's injuries, Professor Snape, Sir? It would be most appreciated." Harry made sure Snape caught the mockery.

"Potter, you are a fool," Snape whispered, angrily. "Look at that boy! He is Lucius Malfoy's son, for Majere's sake! He's a Death Eater! He killed Nymphadora Tonks last night!"

"No, I didn't!" Draco shot back. Obviously he had not been sleeping yet. "It wasn't Tonks at all. It was an impostor! Um, at least I think it was. I would like you to check out the blood I have all over me, and make sure it is not Nymphadora's. I'm horribly distraught by the sole idea that I've killed someone, let alone my own cousin!"

"Where did you get the idea that it was not your cousin?" Snape was genuinely surprised.

"I just got suspicious and tested all this blood," he explained, scratching the rubicund grime out of his skin. "I searched for possible traces of kindred in it with the _Cognatus _charm. I didn't find any. So... I'm pretty sure it wasn't Tonks I killed. It was someone else. And now I must know who it was."

Snape looked actually serious for once. "It was Karkaroff. Igor Karkaroff," he said, twisting his mouth as if it would have really pained him to say that much.

"Karkaroff?" Harry breathed. "The traitor?"

"Yes, the traitor," Snape affirmed. "He was caught by the Lestranges two nights ago."

"Okay." Harry frowned. "Why wasn't I informed?"

"Contrary to your arrogant beliefs, there are a lot of things the Order wants to keep from you," Snape sneered.

"Dumbledore knows about my relationship with Draco! At least, you could've told me what _he _had gone through last night! No, I had to wait like an eternity before I found out what was _wrong _with him!" Harry was fuming. "Concealing his condition from me was _beneath you both_!" he hissed.

"Language, Potter.  You will not speak to me this way, you insolent brat! For your information, neither the Headmaster nor I were aware of Draco's willingness to be a spy. I assure you that by keeping Draco's Call a secret, we were only trying to ensure that you, Potter, would keep out of harm's way. I personally knew all about Draco's initiation already weeks beforehand, seeing as I was the one who brewed the Polyjuice potion with Tonks' hair in it."

"And you didn't tell me! Well, you didn't tell _him_!" Harry growled. "At least you could have told _him!"_

"Mr. Potter, I must ask you to calm yourself. Mr. Malfoy was very alert of what was coming."

"He told me it was supposed to happen next _Saturday_," Harry defended his boyfriend. "The plans changed, didn't they?"

"He actually told you he was going to get marked next Saturday?" Snape looked flabbergasted.

"Well, yeah," Harry shrugged.

"He trusts you greatly, I see," Snape looked uncomfortable. 

"I should hope so," Harry scowled. "Now tell me, what the hell happened there last night! I can't get much out of Draco. It's not like he's unwilling to enlighten me, but he's kind of tired."

Snape's eyes travelled to the blonde young man lying on his leather couch, and he felt a bang of guilt in his chest. If one chose to believe in Potter's words, Draco had not planned to become a Death Eater after all. And if so, Severus could have prevented it all from happening, had he warned the boy beforehand.

"It is true what he said," the Potions' Master started. "Draco _was _originally meant to join the Death Eater ranks next Saturday, but the plans were altered since Karkaroff was so suddenly found. Therefore, the Dark Lord sent somebody to fetch Mr Malfoy beforehand, more specifically this freshly hatched Hungarian Horntail wyrmling. And, as you already must know, Draco's Animagus form is an eagle owl, and he followed the dragon by flying..."

"Wait, what?" Harry interrupted. "Draco's an _Animagus_?"

"And he hasn't told you that?" Snape was delighted to be able to look superior.

"Uh, no." Harry frowned at the sleeping boy.

"Well, it is a secret because he is unregistered. Which, of course, means that all the Slytherin sixth and seventh years know. Lucius Malfoy trained him personally during the past three summers, and I did the rest of it during his third, fourth and fifth year here at Hogwarts. I am fairly surprised that this fact about your precious boyfriend has escaped your ears." Snape looked smug.

Harry, indeed, looked very disturbed. There was a weird feeling in his chest. A feeling he could not quite place. "Anyways, I'll talk to him about that later," Harry muttered. "Go on with the story."

"Well, the whole thing was mainly about Karkaroff. He was forced to drink the Polyjuice potion, originally meant for Wormtail, because Voldemort wanted to test Draco's loyalty on a more, ah, emotional basis," he explained. "Which, if I may remind you, _worked_. He _did _kill his own cousin, in a way."

"You know Draco extremely well." Harry looked grave. "He's not one to withdraw from challenges. Besides, if he wouldn't have done it, he'd been killed himself."

"True," Snape admitted. "But how is it, Potter? If it would've been _you _in Draco's place, what would you have done? Killed Tonks, as well?"

"No, I would've killed _Voldemort_!" Harry spread his arms in frustration. Their conversation wasn't going anywhere. "And exactly there's the difference! It is my job to kill the raging wild bastard, not _his_." Harry pointed at Draco, who was still happily lounging on Snape's couch. "Draco's done a huge sacrifice for the sake of our cause! I'm sure he's willing to become a spy as well!"

"Potter, you must realise Malfoy offered you to Voldemort last night!" Snape hissed. "He said he'd bring you to visit Malfoy Manor next Saturday!"

"Yes, that's true." Harry smiled dangerously. It was good that the subject was brought up so effortlessly, and by Snape himself. "And why, exactly, do you expect him to have said that?"

Snape looked unsure, and played with his goatee.

"Do you honestly think that I would be going to Malfoy Manor just because I'm in love with him and he's a good fuck? Not bloody likely, Sir!" Harry huffed. "I am well aware that Voldemort will be there that evening, _if _you catch my meaning."

For once in his life, Snape looked thunderstruck. "You... You're going to fight him? _Now_?"

"That's pretty much the intention." Harry shrugged. "Now, would you please give Draco some medication? Even though he doesn't complain about it, I know he's in pain." Harry looked pleading.

Snape swallowed and straightened his back. He sauntered to Draco and cast a few rapid healing spells on the sleeping boy as the first aid. He had been ignoring Draco's injuries already for too long, which was completely unforgivable. He was suddenly completely out of his usual sneering mood. 

"Potter?" he asked, when casting a cleaning spell on a wound in Draco's shoulder.

"Yes?"

"Have you told the Headmaster about this... this... plan of yours?"

Harry bit his lip. "No, we haven't told anyone. And I'd appreciate it if you could keep this only to yourself as well."

"You know very well I cannot do that," Snape said. "It would be foolish to let you carry out this mission without the protection of the Order."

"And why is that?" Harry gave a hollow laugh. "I thought you didn't give a fuck if I died or not, so if this plan goes all wrong, you are most welcome to dance on my grave."

"Language, Potter. And I must tell you that contrary to your childish beliefs, I would be most sorry if you died before getting rid of the Dark Lord. And besides, you flatter me with unnecessary cruelty. I would not dance on your grave. I have not yet even danced on your father's grave, even if I have had the chance to do so for almost sixteen years now."

Harry visibly paled. "M-my f-father's grave?"

"Yes." Snape crossed his arms. "I respect his memory, although I did not like him. He was a good man, in a Potterish sort of way. _And _I never said any of this." Snape turned on his heels and marched at the door.

"Wait!" Harry called.

"What now, Potter?" Snape sounded disdainful. "I thought you wanted me to help Mr Malfoy as quickly as possible."

"I do, but what you said about my father's grave..."

"It can wait," Snape snapped, and exited the room.

Harry lowered his gaze, and felt a strange burning feeling behind his eyelids.

"Oh, and Potter," Snape peered back in the room.

"Yes?" Harry whispered.

"Draco did not kill Karkaroff. It was Voldemort himself who ripped the man's heart out. Personal revenge, you must understand. Draco only tortured that idiotic turncoat."

Their eyes met in a mutual understanding, and Harry managed a slight, sorrowful smile. "Thank you, Sir."

Snape waved him off. "Now keep him warm when I'm gone. Er, not _that _way," he hastily added, before slamming the door shut and storming towards his potions storage room.

...TBC... 


	29. Healing

**A/N:** I love you Rotschopf and Dystopic. You make me see the reality, not just the fantasy. Thank you.

**29. Healing**

"Potter, kindly remove your hands from the back pockets of Mr. Malfoy's trousers," Severus Snape's cold voice boomed in the cold dungeon office.

Harry flinched and jumped away from Draco. "Y-yes, sir."

"Is he still awake?" Snape asked, lining up several odd bottles on his table. Some of the vials hissed, some of them bubbled, and some were just pure mist. Every single one of them looked disgusting, vicious even.

"He's unconscious, I think," Harry sighed, worry clearly written over his face and tinting his voice. "He fell into a deep sleep almost immediately when you left us."

"Hmrhp," Snape grumbled and grabbed one of the hazy vials with his bony hands. "We must check his internal injuries, as I am sure there is something seriously wrong with his stomach and possibly also lungs."

Harry paled. "Isn't that very dangerous?"

"Of course it is, you stupid brat," Snape sneered. "Now, we must get Mr. Malfoy to inhale the fumes of this potion. It will manifest any bleeding injury he might have in the area under his ribcage."

"Alright. What can I do?" 

"Uhh..." Snape looked uncomfortable. "We, er, should make him breathe very deeply and rapidly."

Harry raised his brows. "Okay."

"Ah, Potter." Snape coughed.

"Yeah?" Harry looked confused.

"Er."

Harry looked at the Potions Master's pained face, and suddenly understood what the old greasy bat might have been thinking. He burst out laughing. "You... You thought I would need to give him a blow job in front of you? Whahahaha!"

"Potter, this is not remotely funny!"

Harry sniggered. "The hell it isn't!"

"Mr. Potter." Snape straightened his pose and tried to look very menacing. "Ten points from Gryffindor. And it would be appreciated if you would kindly snap out of your childish behaviour so we could proceed with helping Mr. Malfoy here."

Harry swallowed the last of his laughter and nodded. "R-right, um, you don't need to watch this, necessarily."

"Watch what? You really are not going to...?"

Harry swiftly leaned over Draco and gently kissed his lips. Then he started to trail his tongue down the blonde's jaw line towards his neck. Draco started to shiver beneath him, and his breathing increased rapidly. Harry winked at Snape, and slid his tongue even lower, starting to play with Draco's left nipple. Then, he kissed his way down to Draco's bellybutton and French kissed the little cleft.

Draco moaned, his breath already laboured.

Snape felt both disgusted and, to his own horror, also aroused.

"You might want to give him that potion now," Harry instructed the rigid professor.

To Harry's amazement, Snape actually flushed --something that had _never _happened before. "Uh, um, right."

Harry hid his triumphant grin against Draco's soft skin.

Snape brought the vial of mist under Draco's nose, and the Slytherin boy inhaled it deeply. Harry's nose caught a distant scent of fir tree and earth, and he was glad that the potion didn't seem to encounter much resistance from Draco's part. 

"Now, we wait," Snape declared. "Please, stop fondling him. It disturbs me greatly."

Harry obediently retreated and went to stand beside Snape, keeping a respectful distance to Snape. "What are we waiting for?"

"We are waiting for the mist to come out of Mr. Malfoy's nostrils. Look."

The light blue haze that Draco had inhaled now came out as dark orange fog. It formed an ugly, three-dimensional model of Draco's viscera, which only Professor Snape seemed to be able to interpret. Harry watched the hovering and shimmering picture in cruel fascination and felt even more worried than before.

"Hmmmm... Just as I thought," Snape muttered. 

"What is it?" Harry's voice came out as a whisper.

"Severe injuries. You do not need to know more precisely. Let us hurry, otherwise it might be too late."

Harry felt his body go numb. "Too late?"

"Potter, get that blood red liquid from my table," Snape commanded. "No, not that one, the bubbling one."

Harry did as he was told and hurried back to Snape. 

"Now, feed it to Mr. Malfoy whilst I keep his head in the right angle for him to swallow."

Harry carefully crawled next to Draco again. He looked how Snape's professional hands propped up his lover's head. 

"Hurry up, you nitwit," Snape snapped, glaring at Harry. 

Harry glared back at him, and carefully opened the vial.

"Now, try to make him drink it. _All_ of it."

** 

It was the weirdest feeling he had ever experienced. There was no pain, there was no ease. No cold, no heat. Snape's leather couch felt almost ethereal underneath him, and the soft lips that fondled his cheekbones felt like the light touches of the wind. Draco's mind tried to process what was happening around him, but he could not hear anything except the blood rushing in his veins, the heart beating slower and slower in his chest. He could not open his eyes, because his eyelids had become so heavy... so very heavy... 

Draco silently wondered if this was how it felt to be dying. 

Oh, well. At least, the Great Harry Potter would be mourning him. 

If that was not flattering, then what was? 

He felt the feathery kisses become more demanding. They were sliding down his neck. A tongue was teasing his pulse point. Was he dreaming? The pleasure that only a moment ago had been almost unreachable now exploded in his body, making his every nerve end burn with passion. He felt like being in ecstasy. 

He moaned. 

And then... A strange scent filled his world, a scent of fresh spring soil, a scent of fir trees and honey-soft resin. His head started to spin even more than before, although the feeling of passion was now gone. Instead, he felt his stomach churn in the most peculiar way. Was he still alive? If this was still a part of the dying process, then Lucifer sure as hell took his time to test his loyalty.

He was so tired. So very, very tired...

Somewhere, far away, in the other reality, Draco heard someone calling his name. Irritated, he furrowed his brows and tried to block out the voice. Did they not know that he wanted to sleep? Just sleep... 

_Draco... Love, please, open your mouth..._

Draco felt something liquid being poured down his throat. He tried to spit it out at first, but then the sweetest flavour of strawberries and vanilla spread over his tongue, and he swallowed, eager to get some more.

He regretted his eagerness immediately when a sudden, icy breeze made its way inside of him, making him shiver with cold. Sharp, brisk tentacles lanced his ribcage and conquered even the smallest recesses of his torso. And finally, they formed a strong, steely, agonizing cage around his weakly beating heart.

Draco was sure that this was the last phase in the dying process. His heart felt so cold... So cold... As cold as it had been only a few weeks ago towards Potter. Potter... the young man who he now loved more than anything on Earth. 

Draco knew that Harry was here with him, holding him, whispering sweet words to him. Only that he could neither hear the words nor feel the Gryffindor's comforting touch anymore. In despair, he remembered that he had lost his chance to say goodbye. Would Harry hear him still?

_I love you Harry..._

His mind screamed, but he could not get the words out of his mouth. The coldness was so intense that it seemed to freeze his voice in his throat.

_Harry... You stupid fucking idiot... You better know that I loved you._

And then, just as fast as it had come, the coldness crept away. 

Something hot and prickling was being massaged into his shoulders and chest. Then, the warmth spread to his arms, and finally over his wounded back. He did not feel the hands that were obviously roaming over his muscles,  only the heat that seeped through his skin, into him, and made him feel oh-so-warm and comfortable.

_Draco... Draco... Can you hear me...?_

Well, duh. Draco wanted to roll his eyes. Of course he could hear the voice, what were they thinking? He was not deaf, only half dead, for Merlin's sake. Why were they yelling at him? Why was _Harry_ yelling at him? Oh, please.

_Yes, I can hear you, you stupid twat. Now give it a rest. No, wait. Give _me_ a rest... Me very tired._

Draco did not know if he had managed to say his thoughts out loud this time, but at least no-one was yelling in his ear any longer. The voices became muffled now.

_Can he sleep here tonight? I can't really take him to the hospital wing, you know. I don't want Poppy to tell Dumbledore about his Dark Mark._

Despite the hazy state of his mind, Draco realised that they were pondering whether to place his perfect body in care of Hag Pomfrey or not. He wanted to scream his protests with full volume, but again, his mouth did not want to cooperate.

_Yes, I allow him to stay... If he stays alone. I don't want you to spend any unnecessary time in my rooms, Potter. You must understand that I find the idea rather, ah, disturbing._

Draco tried to smirk. However, he failed as his head suddenly started to spin. He felt like flying. The couch disappeared from under him, and he vaguely realised that he was being lifted into someone's arms. Something warm was wrapped around him, and he smelled a faint waft of firewhiskey coming from somewhere. 

_I'm not bloody leaving him, and you can't even demand that from me. So, thank you, Professor. I will take care of him myself._

Draco could almost feel the tension in the air.

_You are not taking him anywhere. He needs to stay under surveillance. _

That was clearly Snape, the voice dripping with its usual venom.

_Professor, I am not leaving him. I don't care what you say or do, or how many house points you deduct, but I will not leave him. Either you let me stay here, or you let me take him away into the Slytherin dorms. And I am dead serious here, Sir._

Draco could almost imagine the glaring contest that was going on between the Potions master and the Gryffindor.

_Fine. Take him then, if you must. _

Snape sounded both irritated and tired.

_Thank you, Sir. Um... Will he be alright now?_

Draco moaned and buried his face against the solid chest of his carrier. Such sappy Gryffindorish concern should be outlawed. 

_Yes, he will be just fine, Potter, unless you blow things up as usual. Remember that he needs a good night's rest, not your cock up his arse. Now get lost. Come to see me tomorrow morning, and I will check his condition. And for heaven's sake, keep this quiet!_

A door creaked open somewhere to his left, and soon Draco felt fresh air stirring around him. A low thud accompanied the steady steps that were echoing in the dungeon hallway, and he understood that he was finally out of Severus Snape's office. 

**

The minutes passed in a complete quietude, except from Harry's steady footsteps echoing from the walls. Draco was lying peacefully in the Gryffindor's arms, being held in a firm embrace. Yet, the situation began to annoy the Slytherin somewhat, especially now that he started to feel a little bit more awake. Taking a deep breath, he cracked his eyes open. 

"Harry?"

Vivid, emerald eyes looked down at him, concerned, and the steps halted. "D-Draco?"

"Stating the obvious, I see."

Harry broke into smile and kissed Draco ever so lovingly. "I'm glad you're awake."

"It was a wonderful feeling, you know," Draco slurred and tried a sweet smile.

"What was?" Harry rasped, clearly fighting tears of relief.

"Dying."

Biting his lip, Harry scowled down at the blonde. "You were not dying, you bloody Drama Queen."

Draco blinked his large grey eyes a couple of times and grinned. "Yes, I was."

"No, you were not," Harry swallowed. "I would never have let you die."

"You don't decide about those things, luv," Draco lifted his hand and fondled Harry's cheek. "But you are right. I was not dying, obviously." Draco shrugged, as if disappointed. "I just thought for a moment that I was."

"So did I," Harry confessed. His voice was shaking. 

They gazed at each other for a long moment during which Draco realised that, contrary to all his prior beliefs, a Malfoy heir was indeed capable of going all soft. The idea of him becoming a heap of jelly in front of Potter disturbed him somewhat, but what could he do? Under the possessive stare of those famous green Potter eyes, he was completely naked and defenceless 

"I love you, Draco," Harry broke the silence.

"Of course you do." Draco scowled, fighting tears. "Now let me down, you sap. I can walk on my own. They didn't cut my legs off, you know."

Harry put Draco gently down, however not letting go of his forearm just yet. "You sure?"

"I'm sure," the blonde sniffed. "Look, they're right there." He pointed at his lower limbs.

Harry groaned. "How can you even think about being witty at the moment? Look at you! Look at _me_! Look at the _time!_"

Draco casually lifted Harry's arm and looked at Harry's wrist watch. "Nine thirty."

"You must get some sleep," Harry said.

"I don't want to," Draco protested.

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you DO!"

"NO!" Draco pouted like a child and crossed his arms.

Harry sighed. This, if anything, was a firm sign that Draco indeed had to get some sleep. _Diplomacy_, Harry reminded himself. 

"Alright. How about a bath? You look terrible," Harry tried.

"I so do not look terrible! I look just fine!" Draco whined.

"You are all covered in blood, for Merlin's sake!"

"Well maybe I _want_ to be covered in blood!" Draco yelled. "_Yours_, if you don't stop acting like a mother hen!"

"Alright, that's it!" Harry lost his temper. "Come here, you little spitfire! We are going to have a relaxing bath and after that, we are going to sleep." 

Harry grabbed the weakly protesting and whining Draco and hauled him along. 

**

Finally, after climbing several staircases and crawling through an endless amount of long aisles, Draco admitted that Harry was right: he really was feeling very tired and worn out. This was easily noticeable from the fact that he was currently leaning against Harry's shoulder with all his weight as the Gryffindor steered him towards the prefects' bathroom. They had yet one staircase left to climb before reaching the fifth floor.

"Come on, Draco, let me carry you."

"No!"

"I could always levitate you..."

"NO!"

"Honestly, why do you have to be so difficult?"

"Because!"

"Because what?"

"Just because!"

"You are sometimes so annoying! Can't you bloody swallow your pride for once in your life?" Harry's eyes flashed fire.

"No, but I'll feed it to _you_, if you'd like!" Draco's gaze froze to an icy stare.

"Stop yelling, you're not supposed to get agitated in your condition," Harry admonished the Slytherin.

"What? I'm not fucking pregnant, Potter! I'm totally capable of arguing with anyone I like," Draco retorted, obviously ready for a full-scale fight.

"That I don't doubt, you stuck-up bastard," Harry muttered.

"Not according to my parents. I'm legal," Draco pointed out.

"As legal as it can ever get with Lucius Malfoy," Harry snorted.

"And what was _that_ supposed to mean, you snivelling Gryffindor?" Draco growled.

"Snivelling? _Me?_ Just look in the mirror and you'll see _who _is the snivelling one in this room!" Harry laughed.

"We're not in any _room_, you nitwit, but on a _staircase_!" Draco sneered.

"Exactly! Where you should keep your mouth shut, if you don't wish to alert Filch!" Harry yelled.

"I don't _care_ if Filch finds us!" Draco hissed. "We have the whole Goyle-issue to blackmail him!"

"Yes, and you've got quite a nice new tattoo for him to blackmail _us_!" Harry grabbed Draco's wrist and shoved the Dark Mark in the blonde's face.

Draco paled, but his temper did not allow him to back down. "If he knew his own _best_, he wouldn't cross his ways with _me_."

"Oh, because you're so _scary_, right?" Harry's voice was mocking.

"Yes, and because I'm a _Malfoy_, that's why." Draco crossed his arms.

"Don't think too highly of yourself, _Malfoy._" Harry poked Draco in the stomach with his index and scrunched up his nose. "Personally, I think your name means nothing."

"I knew you never had any linguistic talents, Potter." Draco looked superior. "I'll have you know that the name Malfoy means _bad faith_, as in, bad faith for _you_ if you dare to annoy me any longer."

"And I'll have you know that Potter means ceramist, and I'll pot your face into a totally new form if you don't fucking shut your mouth!"

They were at the end of their journey, and they both were ready to rip each other's hearts out. Or rather, other and more easily accessible bodily organs, taken that they both got off from fighting.

"What's the new password?" Harry gasped, leaning against the portrait to the prefects' bathroom.

"How the hell should _I _know?" Draco glared. "You're the one who brought us here. Didn't you remember that I lost my prefect badge right after the reign of Umbridge –for obvious reasons, I might add."

"Yeah. You were such a pain in the arse back then."

"What do you mean, _were? _I still am. _Crispy Winter_."

"What? I thought you didn't know the password!" Harry scowled.

"No. I only asked you how the hell I _should_ know it." Draco flashed a bright but a little pained smile, as his wounds decided to remind him of their existence yet again. They were not completely healed, yet.

Harry looked unimpressed. "Fine, so you stole it, you nosy little prat. Now get in."

"You're treating me awfully bad, considering that I'm half dead here." Draco stuck out his bottom lip. "No understanding at all…"

No matter how corny this little display was, it still brought Harry back to his senses. He looked at Draco worriedly. "You hurting?" 

"A bit," Draco confessed.

"At least, you're out of immediate danger, now that Snape healed your inner bleeding." 

"Yeah, I guess."

Harry brushed a lock of Draco's hair back behind the boy's ear. Some dried blood stuck to his fingers. "Where... Where does it hurt most badly, love?"

"Here," Draco said and clasped a hand around his Dark Mark. Then, he looked deeply into Harry's eyes. "And here," he whispered. 

He took Harry's hand and placed it right above his heart.

Tears welled up in Harry's eyes, and he pulled Draco in a tight, quiet embrace. 

They stayed like that for a long time, cradled in each other's arms, only listening to each others' heart beats; they were glad that they still could hear both of them.

** 

In good time, Harry remembered that Draco was still very tired. Gently, he guided the blonde into the bathroom. 

"Come here, love... Let's get you comfortable."

"Mmm…" Draco closed his eyes and allowed Harry to lead him inside. 

Harry lowered Draco in a large, plush arm chair that was situated in one corner of the room, across from the mermaid portrait. Then, the Gryffindor locked the door with a few effective spells and went to open a few water taps. The bath tub – or rather small pool – started to fill up with water and different coloured bubbles. 

"Okay, it's ready soon," Harry said and returned to Draco. The Slytherin was already dozing, although he was obviously trying his best to stay awake. Harry grinned. "Not tired, hmm?"

Draco gave him the one fingered salute.

Harry walked over to his grumpy boyfriend and knelt in front of him. Lovingly, he started to open the belt of Draco's trousers that were the boy's only garment.

"How do I look?" Draco asked, eyeing Harry through his heavy lids.

"Like you just escaped a rampant herd of thirsty vampires," Harry replied.

Draco scowled. "And you once thought I was pretty."

"No, not really," Harry said. "I thought you were beautiful. I still think you are."

Draco smiled, and Harry leaned in to give him a kiss on his nose. Then, he slid Draco's trousers off. 

"Mother Morgan!" Harry gasped. "Oh, Merlin... Draco..."

"What is it, Potter?"

"It's... It's... All these bruises... We forgot to heal your legs..."

"Oh, that," Draco stated dully. "Never mind. They're just shallow cuts."

"I don't care! Shallow or not, we must take care of them immediately! How could we forget to check these with Snape?"

"Potter, I'm only glad that Snape didn't see me stark naked," Draco pointed out.

But Harry didn't hear him. He was seething with anger. "How _could_ they? How could they do this to you?" 

Draco raised a lazy, ash-coloured brow. "What do you mean? They're Death Eaters. This is what they do for living. Torture people."

"But… But you were one of _them_! Why would they torture one of their _own_ like this?" 

"This is what happens during the initiation, I suppose." Draco tried to sound calm, even though his voice was breaking. "I was sort of expecting this… But what I wasn't expecting was that I'd have to... to kill my own cousin…"

"But it wasn't really your cousin," Harry reminded him.

"That's not the point here," Draco rasped. "The point is that _I still killed her_, even if it wasn't really her! Gods... I am a horrible person."

Harry swallowed. Gently, he smoothed Draco's abdomen and the fine hair that disappeared under the waistband of Draco's yet un-removed boxers. "You can't go on blaming yourself forever," he whispered. 

"Then I can't go on at all," Draco whispered back. "I'm a murderer, Harry."

"Listen, you're not a murderer. Snape told me that Tonks, er, Karkaroff was still alive after you were done with him. _Voldemort_ killed him, not you."

"Not the point..."

"Hush, now, love," Harry embraced the broken Slytherin prince. "You didn't kill anyone. You just tortured someone to near death. There _is_ a difference."

"Fuck you... There's no difference to me... I... I can't believe I did it." Draco's words came in ragged breaths.

Harry watched how Draco buried his face in his hands, shaking all over. This wasn't real, this could not be. Suddenly Harry felt special, to be allowed to see this ghastly breakdown. And yet, he wanted to chase all the ghosts away. It would do nobody any good if Draco would start hating himself. Not now, when they had a great mission ahead of them, which demanded concentration, vigilance and determination -- and even more personal sacrifices.

"You did it," he said, lowly and evenly. "And you will have to do it again."

"I don't know... Only yesterday I thought I could really do this. But you have changed something in me, Harry."

"Draco..."

"I don't think I can go through with our plan any more," the Slytherin sighed. "I don't want to be responsible for any more deaths. Especially concerning my own family."

"You can go through with it," Harry sounded determined. "_We_ can go through with it. Because we have to."

Draco didn't say anything any more, only closed his eyes and leaned his head back, wanting the earth to swallow him. Maybe there, in Hell, he would no more feel this anguished about his life.

Harry took a better position at Draco's feet and started to smooth the painful bruises all across the pale skin. He closed his eyes and tried to remember some of the incantations Madame Pomfrey had used on him during those multiple times he'd been visiting the Hospital Wing. 

"_Curatio Iniuria..._ Or something like that..._"_

Curiously, the spell worked, despite the fact that Harry tried it for the first time, and without a wand for that matter. Harry felt Draco relaxing under his touch at the very second the magic spread out of his fingertips. "Does it feel any better?" he asked, marvelling at the sight of the slowly fading injuries.

"Mmmhhh... Yeah." Draco mumbled. "I never knew you were a medi-wizard, Potter."

"That's because I'm not." Harry playfully kissed Draco's knee. "I'm just a dilettante."

Draco looked down at Harry with serious eyes. "But you can control wand-less magic. And you didn't tell me."

"And you didn't tell me that you're an Animagus." Harry shrugged.

Draco recoiled, but composed himself quickly. "Who told you?" he demanded.

"Snape," Harry smoothed a large bruise on Draco's thigh with his healing fingers. "_Curatio Iniuria... _He told me you're an eagle owl."

"Well, yeah." Draco looked hesitant. "I am."

"Why did you keep it a secret from me?" Harry asked.

"I... I don't know. Maybe... I just didn't want you to know how far into the Dark Arts I already am."

"Becoming an Animagus isn't Dark Art, love."

"Becoming a very underaged Animagus with Lucius Malfoy's lead _is_ Dark Art, love."

Harry smiled, contented. "Yes, I suppose it is."

Draco shuddered as Harry leaned upwards and closed the distance between their mouths. The kiss was deep yet careful and it tasted of iron. Draco knew it was his own blood. Harry didn't seem to mind the metallic flavour, though. He used his soft tongue to wipe Draco's lips clean of the bitter gore, clean of all proofs of the past crimes.

Draco felt weak under this unusually gentle touch. He wanted to cry out loud when his Dark Mark started to burn again with new vigour. The pain reminded him of the initiation ceremony again, reminded him of Voldemort. It was an agony that burned within his very soul, trying to blacken his mind. The Dark Mark wanted him to remember that he should not be here like this, that he should shove Harry away and preferably kill him. It wanted him to see that Harry's love wasn't real, _couldn't _be real. 

But Draco fought against that dark power, telling himself that if this all was just an illusion, if _Harry_ was just an illusion, he would be only too happy to die with the pain the mark was giving him, in order to keep this wonderful dream as long as possible. He fought against Voldemort's call, and kissed Harry back, ravenously, as if his life depended on this one, sole loving contact. 

"Promise me to love me tonight, Harry," he breathed, between the kisses that were turning more passionate by the moment.

"I promise," Harry rasped, his hands roaming over Draco's body, fingers trying to find the waistband of the Slytherin's boxers. "I promise to love you tonight... and tomorrow night... and all the nights afterwards."

"And how about the days?" Draco purred and tugged at Harry's shirt.

"The days..." Harry tilted his head and smirked at his lover. "The days, it is your turn to love me."

Harry quickly undressed himself, and then guided Draco into the warm, inviting water. They settled so that Draco's back was resting against his chest, his blond head leaning against his shoulder. He summoned a sponge from the nearby shelf, and started to rub Draco's tired muscles with the soft, and yet so harsh, material. 

After a while, Draco started trashing wildly around. He turned his head so that he could lick the pulse line on Harry's neck. "Harry... I need you, please," Draco moaned. "I want you inside me."

Harry found himself heavily turned on by this surprising suggestion of his lover. But, he knew that he had to keep things going very slowly because of Draco's bad state of health.

"You know that you're too weak for that, baby... We can wait until you get better," he muttered in the blonde's ear. "We can wait until tomorrow, at least."

Draco let out a nearly animalistic growl and slithered his hand behind his back, trying to reach Harry's growing problem. "Damn... you... Potter..." he breathed. "I want you _now_!"

"Draco...ahh," Harry gasped when he felt the Slytherin's talented fingers coil around him. "Draco, don't... I don't want to hurt you."

But Draco was too determined now. He pushed his buttocks against Harry's groin. "You will be hurting me if you turn me down. Come on, Harry... I know you want it."

Harry shuddered and pulled Draco closer. He sank his teeth in the Slytherin's shoulder gently, tasting the moist, salty skin. "Oh, Merlin..."

Draco smiled, and moaned. "Bite me... Bite me harder..."

Harry sucked the ivory flesh, nibbling it gently with his teeth, trailing his mouth downwards towards the shoulder blades, across the freshly healed cuts. He was nearly crying with passion. "Draco..."

The warm, soapy water made the slide very easy. Harry went rigid with surprise when he found himself so quickly surrounded by something so warm and wonderful. He was totally incapable of producing a single reasonable syllable, so good it felt.

"Like it?" Draco chuckled, turning his head so that he could see Harry's fish-like gaping. "Thought so."

Draco began to move, first slowly and teasingly, but soon more urgently. He was enjoying the feeling of Harry; it was like he belonged here, in the black-haired man's embrace. His nightmares started to fade away immediately when his lips found Harry's again.

"I... I'm not going to last much longer..." Harry warned. "If you don't slow down…"

"Bite me again! Pull my hair... Anything!" Draco begged. "Just hurt me a little!"

"Haven't you already...?"

"Shut it and give me pain, you minx," Draco snarled.

Harry smiled breathlessly and grabbed a fistful of the blonde-white hair, tugging it hard. Then he moved his other hand along Draco's forearm. 

"Harry, please..."

"Come for me, Draco," Harry panted. "Come for me," he repeated, and curled his fingers around the burning Dark Mark. He squeezed it hard. "Now."

Draco did not know what hit him; both the pleasure and the pain were so intense. The next time he came to his senses was several minutes later, when he was curled up against Harry's rising and falling chest, still surrounded by the warm, scenting water.

He vaguely realised that his Dark Mark did not hurt anymore.

...to be continued...  

A/N: Okay, so I decided to take a risk with ff.net. Hell, I'm walking on borderline already as it is with this story.

A/N II: Thank you all for reviewing my last chapter. I am totally awed. If it weren't for your supportive words, I would stop writing this instant.


	30. Meeting of the Masterminds

A/N: What I would do without you, Rotschopf and Dystopic, I cannot imagine. I love you both dearly.

A/N II: It's getting harder and harder to write this. You must forgive me, readers.  
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30. Meeting of the Masterminds**

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**.**

It was a bright Wednesday morning, and it was clear to everyone who happened to look out of the castle's gothic windows that it was also a chilly one. The autumn, no matter how long it had lasted, was finally gone. The grass was covert with diamond frost, and the lake was frozen over with a delicate layer of sparkling ice. Harry Potter watched all this in quietude, leaning lazily against the rocky frame of one imposing Gryffindor Tower window. He wondered if this would be the last winter he ever saw.

"You'll find out soon," he heard a low, hoarse voice telling him from the couch behind him. "But if you're going down, you better make sure Voldemort goes with you."

"Are you a mind-reader now, Draco?" Harry smiled, without taking his eyes away from the slowly forming icicles that hung rigidly from the castle's eaves.

"No, I just know that look in your eyes."

"I was my back on you."

"I could see them through the reflection."

Draco gave a small smile at the raven-haired boy and snuggled deeper into the cushions. He had spent the night in the Gryffindor common room, his ottoman comfortably located close to the fireplace. Harry had decided to escort him here instead of the Slytherin dorms, mainly because Draco had been too exhausted to walk properly, and the Gryffindor Tower had been closer to the prefects' bathroom than the dungeons.

"I thought I'd never see the day I slept in Gryffindor." Draco made a disgusted face, trying to lighten up the atmosphere. It was still very early, and the silence was almost suffocating.

"That's probably because people usually sleep at _night_." Harry slowly turned around and went to sit next to the Slytherin. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm just fine." Draco stretched out his sore limbs, hiding his grimace from Harry. "What time is it?"   
Harry looked at the grandfather clock that stood in one corner of the room. "Not yet six."

Draco moaned, and buried his head in Harry's lap. "I guess I have to go," he sighed. "Before your friends wake up and find me here."

Harry smoothed the blond hair, thinking of how much the colour resembled the frost outside. "No," he whispered, a warm gleam blazing in his eyes. "Iwant you to stay."

Draco was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then he glanced up at Harry's face. "You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," Harry said, and trailed a finger along Draco's lower lip. "Hermione is always the first one to wake up anyways. And she already knows about us."

"I'm sure everyone knows by now," Draco grumbled, and leaned into Harry's touch.

"Does that bother you?" Harry sounded a little bit uneasy.

Draco grinned and shook his head.

"I'm sorry I didn't take you into my own bed last night." Harry looked sad. "But I really don't know how Ron would've reacted. You know his temper and his animosity towards you."

"It's okay." Draco took Harry's hand and kissed the knuckles. "I wouldn't have wanted to sleep in the same room with Weasley anyways. And besides, you wereright here with me. That's what matters."

Harry blushed. "Don't be so mushy, I prefer you being rude."

Draco grinned wickedly. "What, can't I tell my Ickle Hawwykins how much I love him?"

"Draco!" Harry moaned, and glared at the Slytherin.

"Hey boys," came a tentative greeting from the staircase to the girls' dorms. "Can I come in?"

"Of course you can, Granger, this is your bloody common room," Draco drawled, recognising her voice immediately. "Awful décor, though."

Hermione crossed the room and carefully leaned against the backrest of Draco's chaise-longue. She looked down at the Slytherin with her brown, calculating eyes that were now also filled with some sort of worry. "Malfoy. How are you feeling?"

Draco met her eyes. "Do you seriously want to know?"

"I do."

"I feel like shit," Draco admitted.

"Good," she replied, her mouth twisting into a slight grin. They stared at each other challengingly for a few moments, until Draco turned his eyes away, smiling.

Harry cleared his throat. "So, Mione... How did the meeting go yesterday evening? You know, with Ron and, ah, Blaise?"

"I think the tense atmosphere could have killed us all if we would've stayed one minute longer in each other's company." She sighed. "But they managed to tell me everything."

"And... What do you think? About everything and all?"

"I only wish you would have come to me sooner. Sounds like everything is still wide open. Or, rather, unorganised."

"Why do you say that?" Harry frowned. "I thought we had some pretty good ideas."

"Good ideas without any knowledge how to use them! Heaven knows you really need my help," Hermione murmured, and let out a long breath. "Harry... There's no head no tail in your plans!"

Draco watched the Gryffindor girl calculatingly. "If that's the case, then, maybe you have some new and better ideas, bookworm?"

"Don't call me a bookworm, Malfoy," Hermione bristled.

"Why? That's what you are. And I thank you to notice I didn't call you Mudblood, at least. And that's what you are, too."

"I'm positively thrilled at the notorious development of your vocabulary, thank you, Malfoy."

"Shut it, both of you." Harry laughed. "You know you don't hate each other, so quit pretending. We have serious matters to talk about."

"Serious matters? This early in the morning?" asked a sleepy voice behind their backs. Harry and Hermione turned around, and Harry grinned; it was Blaise Zabini, escorted by a very drowsy-looking Ronald Weasley.

"So, I wasn't the only Slytherin sleeping in Gryffindor last night," Draco lazily drawled, mirth dancing in his eyes as he regarded Blaise.

Blaise's eyes widened when she realised that Draco was there, too, lying in the shadows of the sofa. "Shit." She winced. "I'm so dead."

Draco smirked, and kicked Harry on the floor. Then, he patted the free place next to him, looking suddenly very solemn. "Blaise, darling. Come here."

"Hey!" Harry protested, standing up and massaging his backside. "Why'd you do that?"

Draco grinned at his boyfriend, languidly pushing himself into a sitting position. "Women always first, Potter. Women always first. Blaise?"

The Slytherin girl timidly came closer and sat next to Draco. She was looking at her shoelaces, a gentle blush covering her cheekbones. "Are you mad?"

"Of course I am," Draco narrowed his eyes. "Why, you bloody slept with the Weasel."

Blaise's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of crimson, and she fidgeted with her fingers, clearly very nervous and embarrassed. "I... I didn't mean to."

"Aw, you stupid girl," Draco rolled his eyes and pulled Blaise into a hug. "I just hope you used protection."

"Of course we did," Blaise huffed, her voice muffled against Draco's chest. "Good," Draco patted the girl's back. "Then, there's no danger of getting more Weasleys in the world, and everything's just fine."

"Hey!" Ron protested.

Blaise and Draco ignored him outright.

"Oh, please, Draco, I'm so sorry! I don't want you to hate me!" Blaise sniffled. "I'm so sorry!"

"Calm down, baby, calm down." Draco kissed the girl's temple. He took a mental note that Blaise had started to become strangely emotional during the past few weeks. He also took a mental note that Ronald Weasley was turning a good dark shade of purple, watching their interaction. Ah... Jealousy. Draco's favourite torture device.

"Please don't hate me," Blaise still pleaded.

Draco sighed, and tightened his hug, intending to redouble Ron's annoyance. "Of course I don't hate you. After all, I myself am sleeping with the one personwho's even a bigger Gryffindork than what the Weasel."

"Hey! Stop calling me Weasel! And stop molesting my girlfriend!" Ron growled, balling his fists.

"And I'm not a dork!" Harry pouted, and aimed a sharp kick at Draco's shin.

Draco gave Harry his trademark smirk. "But of course not, love."

Harry crossed his arms and pouted even more. Blaise resolved into giggling, finally relaxing in Draco's arms. She glanced furtively at Ron, who was looking very pissed off. However, she didn't pull away from Draco. True, she liked Ron well enough, but Draco was still her best and most beloved friend.

Hermione had been quiet during the whole conversation, a pensive and somewhat steely expression on her face. Unbeknownst to her, Harry had noticed this and only hoped that it wasn't what he thought it was.

"What on earth are you wearing, Draco?" Blaise suddenly asked, touching Draco's sleeve with distaste, feeling the texture. "Explain yourself!"

"These are Potter's hand-me-downs, my love." Draco grinned. "He got them for me last night. You know, since my own robes were a little bit, ah, tattered."

"Gryffindor robes!" Blaise was horrified.

"Oh, the horror!" Hermione rolled her eyes, seemingly waking up to the conversation.

"Well, seeing as Harry's wearing my hand-me-downs, I don't see the problem," Draco said, amused. Everyone turned to look at Harry and the crest on his robes.

"It's a snake in Gryffindor colours!" Hermione gasped. "I never noticed before."

"Do you like it?" Draco simpered.

"This is so wrong." Hermione crossed her arms.

"I think it's kind of kinky," Ron admitted.

Hermione and Blaise gave him a weird look, and Harry burst out laughing.

"Uhh... Well..." Ron's ears turned pink, and he cleared his throat. "Er, maybe we should talk about something else... er... like that great secret mission of ours," he tried to change the subject. "When are we going to meet again, I mean, the whole lot of us?"

"I really don't think we should talk about it right here and now," Blaise looked around nervously. "Walls have ears. And we're in _Gryffindor_."

"What's wrong with being in Gryffindor?" Ron sulked. "At least we're not surrounded by a heard of Wanna-be-Death-Eaters, here."

"How do you know?" the bronze-haired girl retorted, and looked as smug as a real Slytherin always should. "How many Gryffin fledglings do you know, exactly, from the fifth year down? How can you tell what's going on in their heads? How do you know their families aren't supporting You-Know-Who? Because, let me tell you, lover boy, it's not only the Slytherins that are supporting the Dark Lord. Remember a fellow called Pettigrew, hmm?"

"You're right." Harry tapped his finger on his lips, thinking. "Maybe we should meet someplace else, later today? Like, the White Chamber?"

"The Hufflepuff Quidditch team has reserved it from dinner until ten in the evening, for a strategy session," Draco said. "Gods, how I hate Hufflepuffs, those useless numskulls..."

"I wonder what they need a strategy session for." Ron looked seriously thoughtful. "I'm sure they don't even understand what the word 'strategy' means."

Everyone in the room sniggered at her statement, even Hermione.

"But, we still need a new place for our meeting." Harry sighed. "The Key Hall?"

"I don't know." Blaise frowned. "We'll see. People are starting to come downstairs. It's not safe to talk about these things here anymore. Let's meet after lunch and decide then when and where to meet later."

"A good idea," Draco commented, standing up and grabbing Blaise's arm. "Let's get going. I don't want us to be seen here."

"Why?" Harry poked him. "Afraid of ruining your reputation?"

"Well, yeah." Draco looked at him haughtily. "After all, I am wearing your Gryffindor clothes."

"You look good in them." Harry smiled lopsidedly.

"I'd look good even if I wore house elf rags," Draco informed. "But it's a matter of House pride."

"Sure." Harry gave him a gentle hug and kissed his temple. "Alright, let's go. I'm coming with you. I need to make sure you'll go and see Snape."

"I don't need you bloody baby-sitting me," Draco hissed, embarrassed.

"Yes, you do." Harry kissed the blonde again, and ushered them out of the common room.

"No, I don't!" Draco protested. "Actually, Potter, I want you to stay behind. You need to spend some time with your Gryffindor friends, too. You've been neglecting all of them. I'll be fine."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Is there something you are not telling me? Why do you so suddenly want to get rid of me?"

"I don't! I just want you to catch up with your friends. That's all."

"You never cared about my friends before, why now?" Harry squeezed his upper arms a little too hard. Blaise saw the beginning argument, as well as she felt Draco's grip on her own arm tightening.

"Potter, it's because of me," she hastened to say. "I, er, want to have a word with Draco. Alone."

Harry glared at the Slytherin girl, clearly not believing her, but didn't say anything back. He took his hands away from Draco and shoved them into his pockets angrily.

"I'll make sure he goes to see Snape, I promise," Blaise added, looking miserable. "Don't worry, Harry."

"How can I not worry when my boyfriend's half dead, for Merlin's sake?" Harry spat.

"Oh, pull yourself together, Harry. Don't be such a whiner. We'll see at breakfast in half an hour." Draco tried to smile at Harry. "Okay?"

Harry was feeling insulted, but faked indifference. "Whatever. Just go."

* * *

When the Fat Lady's yawning portrait swung close behind their backs, Draco immediately started to walk towards the dungeons, as fast as he could without tripping or fainting with pain. By the time they reached the second floor, Blaise was nearly jogging beside him.

"What was that, Draco?" she panted, glaring at her friend. "Why didn't you want Harry to come with us?"

"Because I love him," Draco said, and kept on walking. "I know there's something wrong with me, and I don't need him to get worried."

"You mean..." Blaise paled.

"Yes."

They both turned to walk down the long stairs that led from the Entrance Hall into the dungeons.

"You're going to see Snape immediately, I hope?" Blaise timidly asked.

"Yes."

"Well do you want me to come with you?"

"No."

"Draco..."

"No," Draco stopped abruptly, and looked at the Slytherin girl intensely, a strange fire burning in his icy eyes. "I want to see Snape alone. I want totalk to him in peace. I'm..." he trailed off. "Blaise, I'm hurting, alright? Damn lot. And I don't want Harry to know about it. I trust you won't tell him."

"Draco, you really should let him know," she whispered, eyes watering. "He deserves to know."

"He will know. But not yet." Blaise remained standing in the middle of the cold aisle long after Draco had disappeared in Snape's office. She shivered with fear, cold and sorrow. What was wrong with Draco? It had to be something very serious if he didn't want Harry to know. Blaise only hoped she would never have to support a grieving Harry at a grand Malfoy funeral.

* * *

"Professor?"

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, I was waiting for you already," Snape glanced up from his papers, and gestured towards the ottoman nearby the fire. "Sit down."

Draco obeyed, wincing slightly and shutting his eyes, when his left arm came in contact with the armrest.

"I am happy to notice you left Potter behind."

"D-didn't want him to worry," Draco gasped, and opened his eyes slowly. The room swam in his head, and he could not focus.

"I see you are in great pain," Snape stood up and strolled closer. He placed a hand over Draco's forehead. "Tell me how you feel."

"I... I feel dizzy. And feverish. And... My arm..." Draco clutched his left forearm in a panicky haste. "It hurts."

"How long has this been going on? Merlin, I never should have let Potter take you away." Snape rushed to his cabinet and took out some weird bottles and vials.

"No, no, I was alright last night, when we left with Harry. I... I was feeling a bit sore, but otherwise very well. No... This... this strange kind of pain started during last night. A few hours after... After..."

"Yes?" Snape's beetle-black eyes bore into the silvery grey ones.

"After I had mind-blowing sex with Harry and he squeezed my Dark Mark during my orgasm," Draco smirked, impishly.

"You could have put that into much more subtle words, Mr. Malfoy," Snape snapped, looking slightly yellowish. "You just like to rile me up, do you not?"

Draco smiled angelically. "Yes, but you would never deduct house points from me, would you?"

"Silence, you insolent brat!" Snape smiled a little, and opened a blue-coloured vial for Draco. "Now drink this, and show me your Dark Mark."

Draco obeyed, and gulped down the bitter liquid. Then he shoved up his left sleeve and let Snape access to his ugly new tattoo.

"There, try to do something about it, will you, sir?" he said, in a hoarse whisper. "I... I just want to lie down for a moment, and sleep away this ill feeling, if that's okay with you?"

Snape nodded, and Draco relaxed in the armchair. Vaguely, the blonde boy realised Snape was casting various spells on him. At one point, he even felt a sting of a needle, but was too tired to wonder what was going on. He just wanted to sleep... And never wake up.

"Draco!"

Draco snapped his eyes open.

"Don't fall asleep. Stay with me. Here, drink this."

Again, something bitter, and this time also hot, was administered to him. Draco drank it all obediently, and wiped the corners of his mouth. Then his eyes felt heavy again, and he dozed off.

* * *

The breakfast time arrived, and Harry followed Ron's churning stomach to their seats in the Gryffindor table. He was still in a very foul mood, not understanding why Draco had so suddenly pushed him away. His boyfriend and Blaise had not yet come back from the dungeons, seeing as their seats between Pansy and Theodore were still vacated. A nasty feeling was dwelling in Harry's stomach, and he really didn't have the appetite to eat.

"So, how did the meeting go last night?" he whispered at Ron. He wanted to distract himself from his gloomy thoughts. "Blaise found you then, obviously."

Ron beamed. "Yeah, she found us, alright."

Harry glanced at Hermione, and noticed that she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes and say 'honestly'.

"Well?" Harry continued, amused by his friends reactions. "What happened last night?"

"Well, Ron got laid..." Hermione started, with a perverse grin.

"Hermione!" Harry covered his eyes. "Please, don't go there! Not now!" Ron looked like the epitome of ecstasy. "Why not, Harry? Was my first time."

"Oh." Harry looked dumbfounded for a second. "You mean, you and Hermione never, I mean, you two...?"

"No, Harry." Hermione chuckled, although a little bit icily. "We never made it that far."

"I bet you and Ginny have done it," Ron growled, suddenly very angry. "So what if we have?"

Hermione bristled. "It's none of your business."

"It is my business." Ron crossed his arms, blowing a lock of flaming red hair out of his eyes. "You're fucking my little sister."

"Don't be so vulgar!" Hermione snapped, looking as haughty as Malfoy usually did. "Vulgar? Me? You're the one being vulgar, Hermione! Or do you think it's normal to be a fucking dyke in the wizarding community?"

Hermione's eyes watered at the unexpected, bigoted comment. "At least I'm not a pathetic homophobe with an inferiority complex," she managed to say before bursting into tears.

Harry's temper flared. "Ron, may I remind you that you have insulted both me and Hermione here, and quite nastily at that."

"But..."

"No. Be quiet." Harry's eyes have darkened to a poisonous green. Then he noticed that Draco and Blaise had entered the Hall at some point during Ron and Hermione's quarrel. "Just... Don't say a word," he added, distractedly, his eyes roaming over the pale Slytherin's form.

"Then how are you going to find out what happened last night?"

"I'll ask Blaise," Harry curtly replied, and stood up. "I'm sure she'll know how to not spoil other people's appetites at breakfast table. I'm off."

With these words, Harry marched away, and rounded the hall towards the Slytherin table. He knew that he was being watched very closely by the entire school, but he didn't care; after all, he was sure that, by now, the whole student body from the first year up had heard the rumours about him and Draco. Therefore, they were probably now only expecting some kind of sappy spectacle to gossip about later in the class. However, Harry wasn't going to give them that pleasure... not yet, when Draco had been acting like a real bitch towards him.

"Hey," he said directly to Blaise, when he slid down on the bench between her and Draco. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure." The girl shrugged. "What about?"

"Oh, nothing, really," Harry simpered. "Just want to ignore Draco for a moment."

"Draco doesn't like to be ignored." Blaise winked at him.

"I know," Harry smirked. "That's why I'm doing it. He was being a git this morning."

"You're so cruel."

"That's why he loves me."

Blaise sighed. "Yeah. He does love you, doesn't he?"

Harry immediately sat up straighter. "What's wrong?"

"Harry..." Blaise started, but hold her tongue, because she had promised Draco not to tell.

"What is it?" Harry leaned in closer, and looked straight into Blaise's green eyes. "You can tell me."

Harry suddenly felt an arm slither around his waist, and firm fingers pinching his abs.

"Draco seems to want something," Blaise smiled, looking at Draco's arm around Harry.

"Well, then, I guess he just needs to wait until it's his turn." Harry tilted his head and grabbed Blaise's hand. "Tell me what's wrong."

"You... You really should talk to him, you know," Blaise stammered, trying to convey her worry to Harry with her eyes. "He went to see Snape, just like I promised he would. And... I think... You should ask him about it."

Alarmed by the expression in Blaise's eyes, Harry turned immediately to his boyfriend, who was now putting on a great show of the trademark Malfoy Sulking.

"You heartless bastard, you were ignoring me," Draco sniffed.

"You asked for it." Harry grinned. "Stupid git."

"You're so rude." The blonde looked at Harry snootily along the ridge of his aristocratic nose. "I don't know why I put up with you."

"And I don't know why I put up with you."

"Because I'm so sexy that your body can't help it?" Draco smirked.

Harry pulled the blond boy under his arm and ruffled his hair, which made Draco growl with annoyance. "You're so bloody vain, love. I am already horrified of witnessing the day when you find your first wrinkle."

Draco wriggled out of Harry's embrace and smoothed his locks back into place. "I'm sure you are."

Harry examined his Slytherin counterpart with a careful eye. "So... What did Snape say?"

"He said that I'm doing better," Draco said, a little bit too rapidly to Harry's taste. "No inner bleeding, any more. Guess his stupid potions helped, after all."

"He knows his job," Harry commented, however expecting Draco to say something more.

"Oh, and I almost forgot," Draco drawled on. "Fifty points from Gryffindor."

"What? Why?" Harry asked, dismayed.

"For not listening to his advice."

"What advice?"

"The advice not to put your cock up my arse, or something like that," Draco leered.

Harry flushed deep crimson. "Shit!"

Draco sniggered and resumed to his meal. "Serves you right. I could have been seriously hurt, you know."

Harry's words died in his mouth when he turned to examine Draco silently, raking his eyes over the slender body. Indeed, Harry realised that his boyfriend did not look as good as before; he was slightly shivering and his eyes had a sick, fervent gleam in them. Blaise's worried gaze started to make some sense, now. "Merlin... I hurt you, didn't I?"

"A little," Draco softly admitted. "But not like that. It's not what you think. It's... different."

"Different how? What are you talking about?"

"Not now," Draco hissed, glancing around and glaring at the other Slytherins. "Later."

* * *

The hours of the day went by quickly enough for everyone. Harry spent the whole day dwelling in his own thoughts, sick with worry for Draco, and sick with his own life in general. He was twice molested by Colin Creevey and his camera, thrice asked for an autograph, and four times somebody cornered him and asked him what he would do with the You-Know-Who -matter now that the Daily Prophet had declared that the beginning of the Second War was close. Harry counted the minutes that seemed to slither so slowly just to annoy him. He counted the seconds and waited, and waited. He waited for the time when the classes would end and he could be with Draco again.

Draco's day went by in pain. He had not told anyone but Snape about his problems, but he was beginning to feel that he really should tell Harry. During classes, he was happy he could sit down and just listen to the professors; but during the breaks he had to lean occasionally against the walls, or the offered arm of Blaise, because he was feeling so drained, so tired. He wished that he would be better soon enough; he wished that this strange kind of dizziness would flow away at least before next Saturday, when the whole future of the Wizarding World would be at stake, and no mistakes would be allowed.

But he new he could only wish.

Snape had been very clear with his words: Harry's magic had done something to him. Harry's powers had done something to his Dark Mark, changed it somehow.

And now, the ugly damn thing was slowly poisoning his regal Malfoy blood.

* * *

Finally, the shadows of the trees and flowers grew longer. It was six thirty in the evening, and that evening was cold. They were all gathered in the Key Hall; the round, roofless lounge deep inside the West Wing of Hogwarts. Everyone who was supposed to be there, was there: the majority of the sixth and seventh year Slytherins, Harry, Ron and Hermione. They had all received an invitation from Blaise Zabini after the lunch, and were ready to begin the important meeting.

They had settled down on the oriental cushions and foot stools that were scattered all across the hall. The winged keys were making loops in the air above their heads, and the arches, even higher above, were shimmering with silvery-black, ominous light. The sky reflected down from the open ceiling, flaming in bright orange with streaks of calming blue. The night was settling slowly over the school, and the darkening shadows were so very beautiful.

"So," Blaise started. "We're here to discuss next Saturday. The arrangements are still quite unclear, and I wish we can reach a decent, detailed plan this time."

Murmurs from the crowd told her that her wishes were shared by many others, as well.

"May I introduce our newest member, Hermione Granger," Blaise gestured towards the Gryffindor girl.

Some of the students lazily clapped their hands together, but most of them were just silent. Draco and Montague were sitting together, enjoying vanilla cigarettes and blowing ash-coloured smoke ringlets in the air.

"Alright..." Blaise cleared her throat. "Firstly, we have managed to acquire the list of the birthday party guests. Thank my mother for it; she was having a chat with Mrs. Malfoy two days ago. And, luckily it seems that Mr. Malfoy has decided to keep Hailie's party as a family event only. This means we shouldn't have to deal with too many Death Eaters."

"Alright, let's hear it," Montague said.

Blaise read the names that she had hastily scribbled down to a yellowish piece of parchment. "Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange. Nobody else, except the Malfoys, of course."

"You're mistaken," interfered Theodore Nott, from his seat next to Harry. "My father was invited yesterday afternoon. I got the word this morning. You must know that my father and Lucius are like best pals or something like that. And... It appears that I am invited, as well, in the process."

Everyone turned to look at the Slytherin boy, who had been pretty quiet about the plans before. He looked a little anxious, but still strangely calm about the turn of the events. The silence crawled on and on.

"So, tell us. Do we have to fight you, or are you going to turn your back on your father and fight with us?" Montague finally asked.

Theodore let out a breath. "I am going to fight for you. After all, this isn't about some stupid petite family quarrel. This is huge, like, watching Snape use shampoo for the first time. This is about defeating him. And I'm not going to miss that fight. It's going to be so cool."

"You're going to fight against your own father, if necessary?" Hermione asked, eyeing the boy sceptically.

"If I have to," he said. "After all, Draco's doing it. So why wouldn't I?"

"You Slytherins are so weird." Ron shook his head. "With us Gryffindors, family always comes first."

"Are you saying that if your father suddenly turned out to be a spy for Voldemort, you'd dance with joy and support him?" Draco mocked.

"My father would never turn out to be a Death Eater!" Ron growled, infuriated.

"How can you be so sure?" Theodore asked. "I know your brother Percival is."

"WHAT?" Ron roared, and jumped up from his seat. "You filthy LIAR!"

"Calm down, Ron," Harry advised. "Let's hear him out."

"My brother is NOT a Death Eater," Ron repeated, but sat back down, anyways. "Bloody Slytherins, always trying to intimidate me."

"Let's make this clear once and for all, now." Theodore rolled his eyes. "Firstly, I am willing to fight my own father, just as Draco is willing to fight his. I only wish that we could spare his life. Send him to Azkaban, or something, if possible. Secondly, as to the question of Percival Weasley, I will not talk about it any more. It is not my place to make this kind of revelations, and I apologise for my rudeness. Thirdly, I would like to propose that we put that Polyjuice Potion into good use. I suggest that Harry takes it, turning into me. That way, he is sure to enter the building undetected."

Everyone was completely silent for a few moments, until Blaise's face turned into a wide grin. "Theodore, that is a wonderful idea!"

"That really is," Draco had to agree. "You're a regular guest, so they won't be suspecting anything."

Theodore nodded, satisfied with his own reasoning. "So, one question is solved. Now, we know how to get Harry in. But how do the rest of us can get into the Manor? I know it is heavily guarded."

"We need to get the ground plan of the Manor. Does anyone have it ready, or must we ask Draco to draw it?" Harry asked.

"I've got it here, already," Montague said, and reached into the chest pocket of his robes. "The ground floor, the first floor and most parts of the second."

"Where's the rest?" Draco furrowed his ash-grey brows.

"Um, we couldn't really find the actual drawings," Millicent explained. "We just memorised these floors, on the basis of our visits."

"Oh, for crying out loud, you're missing over half of it," Draco huffed, and conjured up a quill and a bottle of ink. "Here, let me finish it for you."

While Draco was drawing, he didn't notice that a pair of brown eyes was watching him carefully. Hermione, sitting across from him, had attached her eyes to the Malfoy sabre that was hanging from Draco's belt. "Let me see that sabre, Malfoy," she requested, eyes gleaming.

Draco gave her a dirty look and quickly held the weapon even closer to his hipbone. "No."

"Please. I'd like to examine it. I think... I think it might be useful for our mission."

"No."

"Draco, just give it to her, will you?" Harry rolled his eyes. "She won't break it."

"Not one single Mudbl... Muggleborn witch or wizard has ever laid hands on it." The blonde looked annoyed. "This is a valuable Malfoy family heirloom, and is to be treated with respect."

"Hermione won't make it any less worthy of your tainted family, Malfoy," Ron fumed.

"Calm down, both of you," Harry said, glaring at his lover and at his best friend. "Now, Draco my love, give the damned sabre to Hermione or bare the consequences of my wrath. We don't have time for these stupid games. Let her look at it. She'll tell us if it can be used as a portkey or not."

"I'm not afraid of you, Potter, and neither am I taking orders from you," Draco raised his chin defiantly.

"No?" Harry sneered. "Very well. No sex before Christmas."

"What? That's... that's plain barbaric!" Draco was outraged. "How dare you bleed me like this?"

"Easily, Malfoy." Harry leaned closer to his boyfriend. "Now... Give. The Sabre. To Hermione."

Draco seethed for a few quiet moments, glaring at Harry in a murderous way. Then he detached the weapon, very reluctantly, from his belt and tossed it at the self-important Gryffindor girl. "Be careful not to touch the blade, then, Granger. I don't want your dirty fingerprints on it."

Hermione caught the sword in a fluid movement from the air, and was surprised how heavy it felt in her hand. "You're a jerk, Malfoy. But for Harry's sake, I will be careful with it."

Draco lowered himself deeper in the cushions and resolved into constant brooding. The Slytherins were smiling behind their palms, amused by Harry's power over their once-so-icy leader.

"Draco, love, you need to finish this drawing." Harry handed the quill and the parchment sheet to Draco. "And stop sulking, for Merlin's sake. It won't get you anywhere, I'm quite unaffected by it."

Bristling and fuming, Draco leaned forwards and placed the unfinished map in front of him, on a legless table that was floating in the air, only inches above the ground. He muttered a few chosen obscenities and then started sketching again.

"Alright." Montague grinned. "Let's decide on the schedule, then. The actual party starts at eight in the evening, but the Malfoys expect Draco to be there already in the morning. Theodore, for what time was your father invited?"

"Six. As were the Lestranges, I guess. It's only because of the Dark Lord that the party starts at eight. He's... busy elsewhere until seven thirty, you see."

"Oh, right." Pansy remembered. "His every-Saturday visit to Scarletto."

"What's that?" Ron asked.

"A brothel in Knockturn Alley," Gregory Goyle informed.

"Don't envy the whores, exactly." Tracey Davis shuddered.

Everyone looked revolted.

"Euh. Let's change the subject," Hermione pleaded, and returned her attention to the sabre. She was now examining the hilt with great interest, which annoyed Draco to no end.

"So... We're expecting the Dark Lord at the Manor at eight. And before that, we should somehow get rid of the others," Pansy mused. "How many are they? Six?"

"Yeah," Theodore counted quickly in his head. "Six, if we're not counting Hailie, and us."

"How can we possibly beat six fully trained Death Eaters?" Crabbe asked.

"We're Slytherins, aren't we?" Millicent smirked.

"Well so are they!" Vincent protested.

"But they're not expecting a betrayal from their own family," Millicent retorted.

"That sounds nasty," Draco commented, still sketching. "It's not a betrayal. It's merely a restoration attempt on our family name."

Harry chuckled. "Yes, that sounds better, indeed."

"I say we use the house elves," Ron suddenly perked up. "Harry is friends with Dobby, the House Elf, who used to serve the Malfoys! Dobby's now working here atHogwarts, and I'm sure he would do anything to help us out if Harry only asked!"

Draco stopped sketching and turned to look at his boyfriend in utter shock. "You're friends with Dobby?"

Harry looked stupid. "Yeah."

"Harry is the one who set him free," Hermione proudly declared.

"You're friends with a house elf?" Draco asked again.

"Yeah." Harry smiled foolishly.

Draco was silent for many seconds, before he shook his head, leaned down and drew the last few missing lines to the ground plan of the Manor. Harry furrowed his brows and watched Draco examine his artistic achievement with an exaggerated amount of interest.

"Are you mad?" he asked.

"No, just trying to convince myself that I love you, no matter whom you're friends with," Draco replied absentmindedly. "And I'm doing a pretty good job, this far. I was just comparing which would have been worse, a house elf or a flobberworm. And I decided on flobberworm, because, you know, talking only to yourself isn't exactly a sign of good mental health."

"Ha ha." Harry stuck out his tongue.

"I'm cool as long as you don't bring a hippogriff home and tell me that it's a good therapist," Draco said, and handed the detailed ground plan to Blaise, ignoring Harry's glare. "Here, Blaise. I hope it's good enough."

Blaise took the map with a good-humoured bow, and magnified it with an Engorgement Charm, so that every one could see. She interrupted Harry's beginning tirade about the good qualities of a Hippogriff with a stern look. "Attention, everyone. Can everyone see the map, now? Good. Well, here are the kitchen doors. The kitchens are built in the manor's only subterranean area, right under the assembly hall. That area is quite safe for us, since neither the Malfoys nor the guests will ever visit the servants' parts of the house. I say we ordain our mission from there."

"That's all good, but let's not forget the wards," Montague reminded. "How do you think we get into the kitchens without getting fried?"

"Weasley's idea about the house elves wasn't that bad, actually," Draco mused. "They're able to cut down the wards, almost all of them, if they're ordered to do so by their masters."

"I bet Dobby still knows how to shatter the Manor's wards," Harry was excited. "I'm sure he'll do that for us, if I asked him nicely."

"Come on, Potter, he'd even suck Dumbledore's cock if you asked him," Ron huffed. "He adores you."

"Alright, that was a mental image I did not need to have," Draco shuddered. "Weasley, don't be disgusting."

Ron coughed, realising just what he had said.

Draco shrugged. "Well. If you can get Dobby to open the outer wards for you, then there are only the blood wards to slay down. They surround the foyer, the parlour, the library, the main bedrooms, and the living rooms. Oh, and also the assembly hall, and, of course the breakfast room."

Harry stared at him. "How large is that manor of yours, exactly?"

"I don't know," Draco frowned. "I have never counted the rooms."

Harry only continued staring.

"How do we slay down the blood wards, then?" Montague asked.

"I'll have to do it myself," Draco said. "Only a Malfoy can remove them. And I'm sure that my parents would be rather unwilling to do so, even if I asked them."

"Then, will your parents notice if you take them down?" Ron inquired. "Will that kind of action elicit some kind of, er, noise? Or a pressure wave, or something?"

"Weasley, seriously, you've been spending too much time with Muggleborn people. Don't you have wards on your own house? Ah... Sorry, stupid question. Well, then... Wards are nothing but pure, personalised magic. And in case you hadn't noticed, magic is abstract. It won't elicit any kind of 'noises', nor explode into your face."

Ron blushed with embarrassment and anger, but swallowed a nasty retort.

"I'll have to excuse myself from the party and somehow perform the reversing spells in another room," Draco continued. "It takes at least fifteen minutes to get all the wards down."

"Fifteen minutes... That's a long time to be absent, without a good reason," Pansy pointed out. "Especially when we're dealing with your dad, who's outright paranoid as it is. You'll need a good excuse."

"I'll figure something out," Harry promised. "If I'll be attending the party as Theodore, I think I might ask you to, well, show me something in your room, for example."

"Potter, you are not shagging him while being me," Theodore snarled.

"I wasn't going to!" Harry protested, blushing.

"I wouldn't have let him to," Draco coughed.

"Yeah, right." Theodore still didn't look assured. "Just watch what you're doing, Potter, I have a reputation to keep up."

"And how would shagging me ruin your reputation, I just ask?" Draco bristled.

"Er..." Theodore looked thoughtful. "Good point."

Harry smirked. "Don't worry, Nott. I'll be good."

"I don't like that smile of yours." Theodore glared.

"Shut up, both of you," Blaise admonished. "It's time to move on with our plans. There are still plenty of things to consider. For example, how do we get rid of the Death Eaters after Draco has cut the wards down? Any ideas?"

"The house elves could slip a Dreamless Sleep potion to their tea cups," Ron suggested.

"You're awfully into house-elves tonight, Weasley," Draco sneered.

"At least I'm not into you," Ron retorted.

"Point taken..." Draco waved his hand. "But anyway, the house-elf idea won't work."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Because the house-elves won't be serving the tea." Draco sniffed. "My mother will be doing it. She likes to attend her own guests."

Everyone spent a few moments in silence, probably thinking how Narcissa Malfoy would want to do anything like that by herself, until Draco finally spoke up again. "But Harry... If you'd carry an extra Polyjuice flask with you, you could as well transform into my mother... and then you could serve the tea."

"Transform into your mother?" Harry looked at Draco as if he'd grown mad. "And what if Lucius tries to kiss me? Huh? Nope, no way. Over my dead body."

"Don't be daft." Draco narrowed his eyes. "My father never liked public displays of affection. Besides, even if he did, there wouldn't be a chance for him to molest you. You see, I'm talking about that sordid prophecy I received. Now, I don't know how accurate it was, but at least it showed pretty well that both my parents are going down. And when they're down... that's when we need to act."

"You mean..." Harry sucked his lower lip. "When your father has stabbed your mother, and when I have killed your father, I will transform into your mother, and poison the tea, and serve Bellatrix and her cronies that said tea, and look-- oh, dandy, we're so damn good, aren't we?"

"This is getting good." Montague grinned, and lightened another cigarette. "I don't like this at all," Ron muttered, and asked for a cigarette, too.

"This is too crazy. This will never work."

"This is too crazy--" Blaise shot him a glare. "--and that's exactly why it will work."

"Well how do you expect us all to leave the school without Dumbledore noticing?" Ron shot back.

"Oh, we can leave that to Snape." Draco shrugged. "He'll arrange it all."

"What?" Blaise looked utterly shocked and surprised. "You have told Snape?"

Draco lazily nodded towards Harry, who was still mulling over the plan in his head. "Potter did."

"But... but why?" Blaise asked, her eyes blazing with anxiety; she was very upset. "He's a Death Eater! He will alert the Dark Lord!"

"He won't." Harry shrugged. "He's not a Death Eater. Not really."

Blaise looked even more distressed. "He's not a Death Eater? Then what is he? Member of the Order? Please, I've seen his Dark Mark."

"When? And where?" Ron demanded. Blaise blushed.

"Er."

"You've seen Snape naked?" he yelled.

"No, you dolt, of course not!" She groaned. "He doesn't need to take his pants off to show me his left forearm."

"Why would he want to show you his forearm?" Harry wondered.

"Er." Blaise coughed. "I happened to see him without his shirt, actually."

"WHAT?" Ron shouted, a stab of jealousy surging through him.

"It's not my fault," she protested. "He was in the potions lab, and I was helping him with the Wolfsbane potion. I had detention, you know. And when he went to get the last ingredients from the cabinet, something poisonous fell over his robes and he had to rip them off."

"Aaaah! You've seen Snape in his underwear!" Ron covered his eyes. "Aaaah!"

"Snape gives detention to Slytherins?" Harry was dumbfounded. "I never knew."

"Wolfsbane?" Hermione mused. "I just wonder..."

"Ah, so that's why the belladonna was missing from the cabinet." Theodore grinned. "And here I thought Vincent smoked it all."

"I didn't? I thought I did..." Vincent looked confused. "Oh, fuck, Raistlin knows what I have been smoking instead..."

Blaise screamed with frustration. "Oh, shut up, all of you! No, I did NOT see Snape in his underwear! He wore black trousers under his robes, for Merlin's sake, and a short-sleeved shirt! And yes, he did give me detention; after all I had tried to cast something as nasty as a hair-washing spell on him earlier that day. And Theodore, I'm so sorry, but yeah it was the belladonna. How did you manage to poison Terry Boot without it?"

"Bubotuber pus." Theodore smirked.

"Hmm. I would have liked to see Snape in his underwear," Tracey Davis mused.

"No you wouldn't," Harry hastened to say. "He's probably never washed them."

"How do you know?" Draco looked at him sharply. "Saw it in Snape's pensieve once." Harry sniggered.

"You've really been in Snape's pensieve?" Pansy shrieked. "I think my respect for you just jumped up to a new level."

"Actually, it's Dumbledore's pensieve, but Snape was just borrowing it..." Hermione pointed out.

"Let's get back to business!" Blaise shouted, and slammed her fist on the floating table. "Quiet, all of you! Now, I don't understand why you saw it necessary to tell Snape about our plans, Harry."

"It was sort of an accident." Harry shrugged. "And besides, I don't think it was a bad idea, at all. Instead of spoiling our plans, he might actually be able to help us. He's a pretty wise man, even if I say so."

"Pretty wise man?" Ron choked.

"No, not pretty, you dwarf!" Harry groaned.

"But you said that--"

"I do not think that Snape is pretty!"

"Well, sorry if I got it wrong." Ron scrunched up his nose. "Seeing as there has been an inexplicably wide number of gay people recently around."

"Well do you think I should have used another term, like, say, 'significantly perspicacious', then, hmm?" Harry mocked.

"That's even more gay," Draco pointed out, examining his nails.

Harry gave him a scathing glare.

Blaise sighed. "Alright. I hope you're right in trusting Snape with this," she said to Harry. "Otherwise, we'll burn and badly."

"Don't worry." Draco smiled a faint, tired smile. "Snape's safe."

Blaise gave him a meaningful, worried look, but Draco shook his head. They would be discussing Draco's condition later that evening, but not right now. Blaise took the hint, and continued the meeting as if nothing was wrong with her best friend. With Pansy, Millicent, Theodore and others, she started to tie up any possible lose ends in their plan. There were so many things to be taken into consideration, and so little time, but with the help of her clever fellow Slytherins and Hermione, she somehow managed to make a sensible plan.

"Now, we only have one problem left." Blaise finally leaned back in her seat, taking a deep breath. "How do we kill the Dark Lord."

"Don't worry, Zabini." Hermione's clear voice cut the air. "I know how to do it."

.

.

…TBC…


End file.
